I Love To Be A Mother Poem by Marsha Youree

Some houses try to hide the fact
that children shelter there.
Ours boasts of it quite openly,
the signs are everywhere.
For smears are on the windows,
little smudges on the doors,
I should apologize, I guess,
for toys strewn on the floor.
But I sat down with Kerington
and we played and laughed and read;
And if the doorbell doesn't shine,
her eyes will shine instead.
For when at times I'm forced to choose
the one job or the other;
I like a neat and pretty house- but
I love to be a mother.