Poetry for mom

Some days I don’t know if I’m coming or going,
I wake with the sun and I’m last to the light.
If I paused for a second, the world would stop flowing,
With cakes left to frost and the laundry in sight.
There are folders to sign and a field trip to track,
I’m ready to crumble, to throw in the towel

But finding a “Smartie” tucked deep in the stack
Stops the tears and the internal growl.
I melt to the floor with a laugh and a sigh,
Then catch something moving beneath the bed frame;
The lizard, Jamal, has crawled out to say hi,
Back from the dead and still living his name.
But goodness, the clock! I jump in the van,
With hair like a haystack and keys in a clutch.
The youngest throws up (as only kids can),
While the oldest yells “Run!”—it’s all a bit much.
We swarm to the faucet, we’re begging for water,
But the man with the key wants a fee for the tap.
“I just need some tea,” I confess to my daughter,
Wishing for silence and maybe a nap.
Back to the house, we all pile through the door,
I start the head-count: One, two, three, and four…
Wait—five? No, there’s woe! I’ve mislaid the amount,
Missing a child in a frantic recount.
I race to the park where I last saw the man,
And find him safe, despite my “great” plan.
No harm and no foul, just a game of peek-a-boo,
With a smile from a stranger and a “momma, it’s you!”
©️ Deborah Seale 2026