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ONE SUNDAY EVERY YEAR



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ONE SUNDAY EVERY YEAR

If life were dealt with justice, Dealt with fairness all about; If each word and thought and action Were truly balanced out; It would strike you with amazement, If that balance scale were hung, With the things kids do to mothers That the moms don't eat their young! I've seen them with their babies, It's tote, and feed, and wipe! Each mom gives full attention To every tear and gripe. They are walking instant replays Of all those ""mom cliché’s "" Like; ""That thing will put your eye out!"" And, ""Be sure to look both ways!"" Even when the child ignores her And is met with injury; Mom returns to wipe the tear And kiss the aching knee. Through visits to the dentist's chair, Through parent-teacher chats, She becomes the child's advocate; She wears so many hats. She gives right in and loans her car When the children have their dates; Then won't relax or go to bed, She stares outside and waits! From diaper days to college age She serves without a cheer; She's never honored for all she is 'Cept one Sunday every year. But someday all will balance out And Mother will get her due… And I just hope us kids don't get What we're deserving too!
Wes Stephenson

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