No longer certain if it is my own unease, haunting
Held breath, homesick after rare time in good company.
Am I so insecure, projecting onto you my fears?
Or do I see
Nervous eyes, awkward pauses and ever worse, Pity;
Pity full of questions of what has become of me.
My plan to be a good listener works well to a point,
Smile through your new houses, lawns, jobs, and
Reticence forgotten; my lonely, loose lips brag on
Husband and two boys. I have been told I boast too boldly,
Put them on pedestals. I know this; I also know what they endure.
I think this is where I forget myself, begin to share our story.
I hope it's human nature. It's why I listened to yours.
They are the goodness which stands down the terror for how
Could anyone loved by these gems ever wish for different air.
And no matter how squeamish I make you or visa verse, at
Home I am
This I am sure of, witness in their ordinary childlike glee;
And if my doubts leave me uncertain I can count on their immaturity.
They can be my holy terrors, in the ever so routine way two boys
Behaving uncensored can bring a parent to their knees. They bicker
With perfection, by my side is their daily preference; even with
Three floors to roam, they position their noise and commotion
Under my stationary nose. No pity allowed, little time for shame,
We simply had to adjust how we lived within our space; I protest,
I am blessed, our King Sized Life Raft has held so much more love than pain.