In Gratitude

When Frank is out of town on extended field trips, I always have a hard time falling asleep.  This was my way of avoiding the dishes on one such night.

Whose sock this is, I think I know.
It has a hole in its big toe.
I'd mend it if it weren't so late,
But, "Darn," the trashcan is its fate.
The even sighs of five young heads
Emanate from cozy beds.
The only other sound's the clink
of dishes waiting in the sink.
They will not see me stopping here
to make the floors and table clear.
They dream of games and treats and toys;
Their turn will come for deeper joys:
A dinner eaten with a smile,
A prompting in the midst of trial.
A crayoned love note on the floor,
A child, unasked, doing a chore.
A hug, sincere and unexpected
from someone I had just corrected.
Faults o'erlooked and virtues tended,
talents stretched and quarrels mended.
Splendid dreams and careful plans
reorganized by little hands.
I dream "Plan A" and live "Plan G"
as children take turns teaching me.
The tasks are great, the risks are steep,
But I have promises to keep.
And clothes to fold before I sleep.

And clothes to fold before I sleep.