Day 298, stealing my own time

Twenty minute timer
Just for me, no boys.
No "Mo-om!"'s
No too loud TV
I'm claiming these
minutes mine by
Way of parental threats
I'll sugar them with
An empty room,
A journal and a pen

I'll sit (here) and
Write to you my
Deepest need today
The scribbling of the
Pen the only sound
I hear as chaos
Locked within quiets
An overloaded mind.

It's working so far,
I don't hear them!

Busy, busy soul stop
And take a sip
Your so thirsty
You've forgotten how to drink!

Day 262, the finish line

Too busy little bee!

You go, run, race
busy little bee
farmer at the harvest
arent' we?

Stopping not an option
must complete task
go, run, race
not slow but fast, fast, fast!

Weary hands toil
feet trollop ground
work, work, work
and not another sound

You will not hear
the quiet Sunday
whispering to you
you'll only dream of Monday
and all you have to do.