They bully
They rally
They scream
Their eyes gleam
With the brightness of life

Deeper goes my head into the laptop
Lest I become a big-mummy flop
While I pretend to be too engrossed
To be affected by the chaos now embossed
Robbing of the desired quietude within

Not one given to dramatics
But I still crave time for personal antics
Yet nothing would make me decline
An offer to bond with these ones I call mine
Every moment well-scripted lines in time

But I do wonder if they are truly mine
Though they were once shielded by my spine
All of me being poured into the nurturing
A very careful preparation for the maturing
Before being expelled to make their foray onwards

Doesn’t the word say they are His heritage?
Rewards from the throne of grace into marriages
They are gifts merely entrusted into earthly care
For a time to watch, guide and keep from every snare
However, I am glad to still call them mine, albeit for a time.

Now I call on You as a daughter
Every soul reading this fill with laughter
May You grant every broken soul
Your awesome gifts to console
As I remain thankful for mine.

© Biolaleye and Ramblings of A Nigerian Momaholic, 2014.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material or any other material on this site without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Biolaleye and Ramblings of A Nigerian Momaholic with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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