Folded clothes and made the beds,
packed full lunches, kissed their heads.
Paid the bills, fixed what they tore,
mended hearts and so much more.
Grown now but still call my name,
treat me like a trivia game.
My tired soul runs so thin,
no regard for where I’ve been.
Want to walk beneath the trees,
feel the wind, then breathe in peace.
Sip my tea while it’s still hot,
find the woman I forgot.
Love them truly, always care,
but I need to self repair.
Time they stand on their own feet,
as I choose to take a seat.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy