There are days when you grow weary, when your back will hold no more

When your eyes grow sad and teary, and you run for the back door,

Your dreams of sleeping in are crushed.  The coffee’s running out,

The oatmeal on the wall is mushed, you’ve lost the strength to pout.

When you fill the cart at Walmart, with things they should never eat,

You wish you were inside that cart, so you could rest your feet,

When day is done and dishes call; your patience has been spent.

You were a child once after all; to your mother please repent



As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension. I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog. I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ. My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on
This entry was posted in Father's Day, Mother's day, Poetry by Kathy Boecher and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Kathy, thanks for sharing. The ending of the poem is a true delight. My mother can identify with each verse as she probably did them all . . . and more! Sort of happens when you are a mother to a brood of six, born over a period of 11 years.

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