Our Mother was Perky
Our mother was perky in the morning.
It’s the only time of day we ever heard her sing.
She would come into our room and sing “good morning” stuff.
My twin and I would grumble and rumble about it.
How she could be this perky every single morning is a puzzle.
But she was.
Was it the coffee?
Was it her natural tendencies? Who knew?
The cheerier she was, the more grumbly we got.
On school days.
On Saturday mornings we were the perky ones.
Waiting for Underdog on the TV set.
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