Today, like most Sundays, has been lazy. Mom helped me to make a birthday card for a very dear friend, and we have been for a walk, but that’s it. I thought about how much I like the weekends, and then I started to think about why. I decided that it is because Mom is home with me.




I sometimes lie here thinking,

And for me that is quite hard,

Because I get distracted

By the noises in the yard.


I try to think of good things,

Like sausages and walks,

But find that I am trying

Not to listen as she talks.


She’s dressed up in her work clothes,

Which will mean she’s going out

And leaving me at home again

What is that all about?


She goes out every weekday,

And she leaves me here with Dad,

I always hate her going

Because it makes me sad


I know that Dad looks after me,

But I feel I have to say,

That Mom’s the one I think of

Every minute she’s away.


I love my Mom 

Charlie is here with me too, and Dad is at home, but it is not the same when Mom is not here. 



One thought on “Mom

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