He brings home the news he’s deploying again,
You hold it together; turn away, nod your head.
He’s seen others hurt; you’re his best friend then-
the one he turns to, when another is dead.
Laundry, cleaning, chauffeuring, cooking,
single parenting – a difficult job, at best.
Bills need paying, the lawn needs mowing,
don’t show your kids you suffer, and can’t rest.
The washer needs fixing, your kids are a mess,
you rush to clean all – it’s just not fair.
You paint your nails and then buy a new dress,
you shave your legs and then cut your hair…
None of it matters, ‘cause he’s coming home –
It’ll be your turn to break down, when you get time alone.
Dawn Marie Paul Art & Books 