Life: My life

words beckon and I curl up like a ball in routine
rolling from one task to another
The world is round, they say, so is my day...
it keeps running back into the same things
again and again
who will cook dinner?
who will fold the clothes?
the story stands aside, mute
I have no time to lend a hand and mould her into shape...
the husband yells for tea
the son has lost his socks
the daughter needs a ribbon
my feet find their rhythm within the merry-go-round of life
and when sleep slips sweetly in,
I think of you...
still waiting
mutely
for another moment
another chance...
another day