There is nothing more exhausting than a tired afternoon,
When no matter what she does, she drags from room to room.
Her head just wants a pillow, her legs feel sort of loose,
Her eyelids sink together, her feet can hardly move.
She fights the urge to crash and sleep for just a little bit,
Plodding right on through her day, wishing she could quit.
Pressing on just half awake until she can't go on.
She slumps into an easy chair, the tiredness has won!
Her eyelids close so quickly, her head tilts to one side,
Her shoes slip off her feet, she barely feels alive.
Then somewhere in her reverie and slumber of her dreams,
She hears a distant voice; "Mama! Mama Please!"
It's only been five minutes, but five is all she gets.
She rises from her stupor, though her energy is spent.
"Mother's work is never done" is really no cliché.
No end to work is not enough; it means little rest or play!
But, Mama never yells or screams, she never scolds or whines.
She simply rises from her sleep and somehow keeps a smile.
She knows that this will somehow pass; too soon it will be gone.
The memory of these tired days will be the crown she's won!
Copyright 2001 by Layne S. Porter
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