The washing up was all but done

Her tussle with the mop was won

She sighed and looked the kitchen round

And shook her head, then leaked a sound

The sound grew loud, to her dismay

“I’m leaving now – I’ll run away”

“Away to where” a small voice asked

Away to where I have no task

The endless days of wash and scrub

That must be done, redone…drub,drub

“And what would satisfy your soul?”

Again, the voice in calm cajole.

To ride a horse, to lead a charge

Be bold, be alive, be larger than large

To stand my ground, to make my mark

To be another Joan of Arc

Deeds of honor must be done

Heroic songs must be sung.

Another voice piped up to say

“Mom, can you drive to practice today?”

As bubbles dissolved in her soapy pail

The wind escaped from out her sail

To earth she fell. Her reverie

Impaled upon the need to be

….Mom.