Stress

Coffee's in the pot
Breakfast's in the bin
Mother's up and shouting
Let the stress begin

Chidren not for rising
Bedrooms are a tip
Covers dragged of bodies
She's fair letting it rip

Bathroom at the double
Teeth to be sparkling clean
Father slams the front door
Muttering something obscene

Toast on the plate
Marmalade, jam and knife
Scrambling into places
Arguments are rife

Silence for a moment
The children look aghast
As suddenly she screams
"Eat your damn breakfast"

Mouths apply to food
Spoons in dishes clink
Each one humbled
Pots are placed in sink

School lunches packed
Bags on shoulders shrug
Arms around mummy
Tear filled eyes, gentle hug

Kisses on the forehead
Waves them through the door
Heart filled to bursting
Could she really love them more?

Back into the kitchen
Now coffee pot stews
Collapses in tears now
As silence, emptiness ensues


Terry Rhiannyr
May, 2012