Sigh

Feeling harried, running late,
Little things that irritate,
Sitting idly, making plans,
Color-coding them with crayons.

Lots of good intentions here,
But I notice with a tear,
As computer screen grows hazy,
All I seem to be is lazy.

Children calling and intreating,
I forget their childhood’s fleeting
As I sit here hour by hour
In my little cluttered bower.