At the Son’s House

At the Son’s House

While their mom visiting her mom
overseas for a month,
take care of the kids.
The old spinster sis put it, Enjoy the grandkids.
Smile. First a few days are okay, doing the chores,
like cooking, doing the laundry, etc.

Nightly prowler out the window; strong smell pricks
the warm night air; white-stripped creature hidden;
what scared it? The smell steals my sleep;
I read a book.

Wind outside rattles the window; a cry of a child.
It’s wee hour and wide-eyed; dawn begins to knock
at the window; time to make breakfast, feed the kids,
and wave them on the bus.
I sit at the kitchen table and massage the temples;
many days are still ahead.
Email the sis: No husband and no kids. Why do you weep?

©Byung A. Fallgren

2 thoughts on “At the Son’s House

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