by the poet mom
A quick scan of my closet
Reveals the dismal truth.
The stained T’s and cropped yoga pants
Have replaced the haute couture of my youth.
How did this happen?
And why didn’t anyone shout,
“Hey, you, Lady!
Back away from the discount T-shirt rack.”
I have a good idea when I went astray.
It was the day I made the discovery
That the one who loves all things dirty, grimy, and buggy
Meant more to me than any finery.
My garments are comfy and practical.
They reliably stay the course.
And when they finally cave under the pressure,
It’s into the rubbish bin with no remorse.
I take heart knowing the day will come
When I can again look my best
Someday all too soon
When those filthy angels finally flee the nest
Until that day arrives,
I’ll wear my uniform with pride.
For every sticky fingered hug
Makes me feel like a super model inside.