The Space Of My Own

A mother's work is never done. What does it feel to experience a moment of calm at the end of a long day, to carve some time out for me?

A mother’s work is never done. What does it feel to experience a moment of calm at the end of a long day, to carve out a smidgeon of time for me?

As the shadows of the night fall
Quietness envelopes the earth.
Done with household duties
I tiptoe out of the room
To claim the space, the time
I can call my own.
Without interruption
Or whirlwind of duties, responsibilities beckoning
Not the kitchen calling, or
the kids wailing,
someone at the door, or
the phone ringing.
The night settles in, so do I
Lost in a world of thoughts,
my flight of imagination takes off,
knitting dreams where I exist,
with all that I want.
Some, I work to realize,
some will remain as dreams.
But, still I cherish the night,
the space of my own.

Photo by Ruvim from Pexels

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