Fill My Home With Hard

Easier doesn’t mean anything.
It’s easier now that they’ve gone
The four little girls that I’ve loved.
The laundry is gone,
No meals need be cooked,
In rooms there’s no clutter,
The doors always shut.
Yes, easier, but that’s all.
Easier’s just easier, there’s no laughter, no squeels of delight,
No late night snuggles.
There’s no joy in easy.
So come home to me my little girls,
Bringing in tow you own little ones.
Fill my rooms with squeels of laughter,
Handprints on doors,
Spills on my floors,
Sticky kisses on my cheeks.
Fill my home with hard!
For there is no joy in easy.

Debbie Riley