Giana Gallardo Hesterberg Poet Prose Poetry

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Another day
Of dishes, dirty clothes and diapers
								Come play with me
Hold on…
The floor is sticky
Yesterday’s cheerios crusted over
Remnants of little hands on the table
What will visitors say?
								Come play with me please
Their rooms
An endless supply 
Of tiny traps,
Ninja turtles, dinosaurs and books
								Come play with me NOW!
Sigh…
How did it come to this?
Me, not keeping up
Drowning
In seemingly simple tasks
								I love you, mama!
Small arms wrapped around my legs
A tiny face, buried into my bottom

I reach out, kiss his forehead
Say I love you, too
And we play.

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