Home » Poems » Doris Culverhouse » Can You Guess This Job? 'U'

Can You Guess This Job? 'U'

Warm fuzzy, squirmy, powdery smell. Goo, goo music to my ears Peacefuness, facial expressions galore. Firm gentle grasp on my finger tip Helpless devotion, personal satisfaction Love grows every second

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Phyllis Babcock

Date: 9/20/2009 2:41:00 PM

Sound like a baby to me. God Bless Phyl

Brian Strand

Date: 9/18/2009 12:13:00 AM

Best wishes with this one Doris.Rgds Brian & thanks for your welcome comments

Matthew Anish

Date: 9/17/2009 12:53:00 PM

Well - let's hope it does! Thanks for your kind words - and keep writing. Sincerely yours Matthew Anish

John Freeman

Date: 9/17/2009 10:56:00 AM

My guess would be baby bath time, I don't see the baby being fuzzy tho, you were only fooling about that tho, hun! Lady glad to see a country girl and glad of it. Being country myself, I recognized all your eating habits, except one."'Scuppernong Smacking" Is that were you sop up all the liquid, you food has left in your plate, after all the solid food is gone, with a piece of bread? Have you ever tried Polk Sallet, or fried Polk Stalks, they are native here in ar, and grow wild, Moses

Yoni Dvorkis

Date: 9/17/2009 7:33:00 AM

the powdery smell was the most helpful tip for me. Glad to see your enjoying this new experience, assuming this is a recent memory you're recounting for our benefit. Thanks for sharing. -Yoni

Abe Lopez

Date: 9/16/2009 8:04:00 PM

A mother would be my first choice or maybe a daycare worker....:-)

Donna Golden

Date: 9/16/2009 7:32:00 PM

Newborn nursery in a hospital? Yes, a mother is the obvious answer, but, the place where these precious babies first come into the world could be the answer! Nice work, Doris!

Sara Kendrick

Date: 9/16/2009 4:49:00 PM

It is the mother's job and if we just hold one we want one. Sara

Carolyn Devonshire

Date: 9/16/2009 4:29:00 PM

Sounds like a mother who truly enjoys the happiness a child brings to her. The "Firm gemtle grasp on my fingertip" is such a tender image. Indeed, for mothers "Love grows every second." What better job could there be than motherhood? Excellent poem, Doris. Thanks for this delightful read. Love, Carolyn