How many before tomorrow?

"There is still time"

I think that tomorrow is the end.
I will have made it.
I think.
I must write though.

Hopefully the words can flow
From my finger tips.
Soft lips whispering inside my head
As I type...

Writer.
Am I?

"This Morning"

I want to be the kind of Mother
The Mother that never makes them wonder
I want to be the kind of Mother
That is always a kinder Mother
Than I was last time.

Oh the words don't rhyme
When I yell.
"Mommy! Stop talking mean to me."
Guilt. I yelled. Again.

This guy just won't be reasoned with.
Spirited. The book says.
"Like regular children, but more."

Me too. I am more. And never too much (for the right people).
More emotions. More perceptive. More intense.

All this simply means: Apply More Love.
And sometimes my cup runs out.
I tried to take a time out!
Last night.
What a joke. He spoke with tears of abandonment when I left the room.
There must be some other tools to keep us all living and loving along.

I sing songs. We pray.
And at the end of each day
We all know how much we love one another.
I guess, at least
I am that kind of  Mother.

Not a perfect one.
But we do have fun.
And the love flies free
Fluttering joyously
Amidst my Sonshines and me.

"Did you just lick my foot"

I will let you be a puppy
If it means you eat your supper

I will let you run all wildly
If it calms your energy and you mildly
Snuggle in tight.

Tonight, you bounced and giggled.
You squirmed and wiggled.
We laughed and maybe tickled
Awhile.

Sometimes you lick.
Sometimes you swear!
Sometimes you even disappear
And hide on me.

You ate that candy from the sidewalk.
You covered the walls in coloured chalk.
You filled the toilet with paper and squeezed it.
You sniffed the pepper and then you sneezed it
all over the place!

And then, when I sing,
(like Buffy Sainte Marie)
You keep on doing
all the things
"Just  like little kids do"

Except you are more likely to pee
On a great big tree
than in a puddle.

"That I Might Climb a Mountain, Even Once I am Old and Grey"

I saw Buffy recently
She speaks and composes so eloquently
For the people who have long been silenced
Who have been oppressed and treated with violence

And she is still carrying on
So damn strong
At the age of 78
She looks better than great

I watched her move about that stage
Filled with hope; thrusting love at the rage
We should all feel when we realize
The injustice of the Treaties broken before our very eyes.

I intend to use my voice too
I don't quite know yet what I can do
But act in service to Creator I must
Placing my Faith in the Great Mystery, I trust

That I can make a difference too someday
Strong enough to climb mountains, even once I am old and grey.