A Fool's Shangri-La

I chase away the housewife's blues.
In a cabin - fever dream.
It's the little things that give you heartaches,
heart -- or headache, oh such pain.
It is seven a.m.
Six children storming out  the door.
They refuse to wear their hats and their boots.
It is cold and it is starting to rain.
The driveway to the school bus 
is covered with mud.
Every morning start almost the same.
Too long, that I have gotten out of the house.
A housewife's shores never get done.
I turn on the hi-fi and dance to a waltz
and pretend I am not longer alone.
Sounds of the music, bring memories of youth
and roses and wine, long ago.
I sing to myself;" one day at the time;"
fly in a jet to my homeland the Rhine
and have a party all of my own.
I sit across Henry, we solve 
the foreign affairs.
I convince a sheik who has oil coming out
of his ears that love is not for sale.
He gives me a line, with an oil can of tears.
I plead for peace with all the world leaders
and make angels out of the most cruel.

Copyright © Hilde Bird | Year Posted 2007

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