And at my back I often hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near
On this occasion prompting me to pick up Ted
So ticking clocks instead of poems fill my head.
The time is just announced: twelve forty-five
And so away goes pencil, Rachel, notepad. I must drive
To school! My small boy must be retrieved
And Flora woken from her sleep. She will be grieved!
But what can I do? My writing must fit in
With childcare, mess, meal prep and tidyin'.
4 comments:
Love it!
i love it too!
would love to hear you read it with a Pam Ayres accent :) x
About time you blogged, girl. ;-)
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