“What We Are Made Of”, a poem

Slip-on shoes, greasy roots, frantically searching for my daily green juice:

This is what Mommy is made of.

Two part time shifts, adding school to the mix, never a whine from his lips:

This is what Daddy is made of.

Food stuck in their wispy blonde hair, in this world never a care, daily learning to share:

This is what little boys are made of.

Sticky hands, muddy boots, endless jokes about “toots”:

This is what my boys are made of.

Chattering chattering all the day long, singing singing their very own songs,

dancing dancing to their own beating drums, and thinking out loud (giving the day a low hum):

This is what my boys are made of.

Fingers brush against my cheek, is this the blessing of the meek?

Even though the laundry reeks, and I always wish for a bit more sleep, others tell me that my life is sweet.

Dirty dishes fill the sink, odd-jobs to make ends meet, some days feel like they’re on repeat.

But on the other hand, there are so many kisses and hugs to be had, I wish time would slow but then I feel bad…

Because deep down inside I urge time to continue, for seeing the growth, the change, the journey, is what keeps my heart grateful, my soul yearning.

Hoping for renewal, longing for healing, enjoying these special moments that God is revealing.

This is what dreams are made of.

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