a poem a day for a year #127

by Amy Turn Sharp


sometimes the baby screams and shouts
for no good reason
and I am jealous
of my baby
I want to roll down the hall
tumble scream out frustrations
a few times a day
cry drip tears
release
and then quickly see a shiny object
a friend
smile and leave it all behind
as I drag the past down the hall
like a rag doll
leave it on the floor
discarded toys
tantrum ghosts
the world is fine
the world is fine