In my home, little hands are always at work,
From dawn till dusk, their duties they don't shirk.
They scurry about, completing every task,
With a smile on their faces, their eagerness unmasked.
The laundry's done, the dishes are clean,
The floors are swept, the house is serene.
Their little bodies, so full of energy,
Working tirelessly, their diligence a synergy.
Their small fingers, nimble and deft,
As they fold the clothes and put them in their chest.
Their laughter echoes through the halls,
As they clean and tidy up the walls.
I marvel at their skill and dedication,
And their uncomplaining attitude without hesitation.
Yet, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt,
Knowing that in a just world, they would be free to be kids.
But in this age, where resources are scarce,
Every hand is needed, no matter how small or large.
So, in my home, my children work with pride,
And I hope that someday, they will find a brighter side.
YOU ARE READING
Poems at 3 am
PoetrySoup. (This content may be nonsuitible to some veiwers. Veiwer discretion is advised) Most of this is from my friends storys or from my head. Have fun and enjoy :))
