Thursday, April 30, 2015

When all the toys are gone

When all the toys are gone

There will be no Lego-strewn stairs to pick my way through each morning

Or dinosaurs and barbie dolls stretched out across the living room floor

The milk will be neatly sitting in the fridge, not in a puddle at the kitchen table

And the laundry basket will not be overspilling onto the unwashed floor.

My cupboards and drawers will be mine once more

Not filled with pictures and paintings and cards declaring undying love for me, in writing that only I can read.

There will be no odd socks or homemade volcanos looking for a home

No piles of shoes to tidy or lunchboxes to fill

There will be no little white vests or muddy tracksuits thrown on bedroom floors

Nor teddy bears collecting dust on over-stuffed shelves.

There will be no fighting or shouting or cries of 'He hit me!' 'It's not fair!' 'You're so mean!'

When all the toys are gone

I will listen to the silence I sought

And wander through the clean and orderly rooms I craved

And I will miss these days.

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