A Nobler Breed
A
working mother has a place
too seldom winning praise.
She
has to run a triple race
all
her working days.
She
has to please her husband,
her
children and her boss.
While
meeting their demands,
she
pays a selfless cost.
But
often, as she surges,
in
her glories, through her tears,
a
different woman emerges,
stronger
after the years.
Filled
with common sense
an
that certain special air,
with
growing independence,
she
still has time to care.
Torn
with dual devotion,
between
her family and position,
between
motherhood emotion
and
a working mother’s ambition.
Hit
by family feuds before,
jarred
by traffic jams,
her
work becomes a frightful chore
against
such daily slams.
Errant
children and cranky parents
will
spoil each eight hour day
until
gradually it becomes apparent
that
mother’s turning gray.
So
why is it that men have had
a
greater share of praise,
when
working mothers unlike dads
have
just begun their days?
She
must come home to tame the beast,
to
quell the madcap tribe,
to
clean, to sooth, to fix a feast,
so
her family can survive.
And
later on as the tribe sleeps on
and
her many chores are through,
she
smiles faintly, after a tired yawn,
searching
for a thought or two.
Somewhere
in her youthful dreams
is a better, clearer day.
Along
the way her plans and schemes
seemed
to have gone astray.
But
her present meditations
are
weighed against the night.
Despite
her many frustrations,
she
knows her path is right.
She
knows she is a nobler breed
who’ll
win her rightful place.
Quietly,
she’ll take the lead
in
that frantic, triple race.
Now
dreamily, with unburdened heart,
she’s
thankful the day is done,
but
waiting still is her threefold part
when
morning’s schedule’s begun.
What is Marriage?
but
a rough road to tread?
It’s
more than just a honeymoon
or
romp in the nuptial bed.
It’s
more than just the romance
seen
on soapy tales,
for
we are more than sidekicks
on
life’s rocky trails.
What
is marriage
beyond the lyrics of rhyme?
It’s
the forging of two souls
that
lasts the test of time.
Unforgotten
faces emerging in my dreams
are
the memories of old classmates.
In
my daydreams they also appear:
their
faces, voices, and special traits.
Names
can be lost, but not eyes nor a smile
nor
a particular walk or look.
I’ll
find their photos after a little while
tucked
away in my yearbook.
A
few moments searching and it all comes back,
each
antidote and escapade.
As
if it happened but yesterday,
each
photograph is part of a parade.
Left
is my spirit, but gone are the games,
the
assemblies, the dances, and plays.
Touching
each picture in Ouija board fashion,
I
remember those carefree days.
Long
lost friends are out of reach,
but
time can’t sweep the past.
The
yearbook stirs my recollection,
making
my memories last.
Endearing
notes, as milestones left,
under photos on special pages.
Inside
the cover in sweeping prose
are the words of high school sages.
Laughter
and friendship, long ago heard,
in
each photo that I find.
Those
special persons touching my heart
burn
brightest in my mind.
Co-eds
and debutants captured my affection
as did the spirit of the high school teams.
The
games, the dates, and even the classes
still
haunt me in my dreams.
Unforgotten
faces live in my yearbook
in
an age that seemed trouble free.
Life
has always had its knocks,
yet
I’m filled with serenity.
Lord
protect them and guide their fates.
Keep
them safe, happy, and sane.
Let
my mind not forget and heart always feel
the
memories of old classmates.
I
left you standing there
but
failed to make the toast.
It
took the distance that we shared
to
make me miss you most.
It
came to me in awhile
that
I may never hear your voice.
I
would never see your gentle smile,
unless
I made a choice.
I
chose to reach across to you
by
the magic of the phone.
If
I had not made this breakthrough,
you
might never have known.
You
would never have heard the high esteem
from
this admirer from afar
or
never have known, my friend,
just
how dear to me you are.