Monday, November 15, 2010

Monday's Are The Hardest....

Sitting in a damp, garage, at my plywood desk that gives me slivers every time I run my arm across it,
Listening to old men swear
Drinking a cup of too dark tea, with artificial sugar but no spoon to stir it with
Getting a headache from the insanely loud jobsite noises going on just outside my office
No phone to call out with
No motivation to work harder
All the while, wishing my days were filled with baby kisses, singing songs, long walks an play dates.

My time would be much better spent enriching the mind of a growing child, than losing mine in a dark, damp garage, with dark tea and artificial sugar and a headache from all of the noises.

1 comment:

  1. Ash, I'm sorry that you're having to endure this situation, but I have to tell you that this poem you've written is incredibly good. It's not just the words themselves, but the way they are put together. I could actually feel your heart through it. Well done; you should write more like this. Sometimes misery can bring great inspiration.

    I'm wondering now, how many creative gifts to you have, sweetie? I've seen your creativity come alive in event planning and interior decorating, and crafts; now, here's another--you're a writer, too! You are amazing.

    Dad :)