But before that, she checks to make sure her children
Aren 't spending too much time with Technology.

Each day the boys look more and more like their father.

The father who likes her nails painted and her toes done,
The one who likes her hair soft, bouncy and curly,
Her man who cringes when she gains a pound,

He will be home soon to assess high expectations.
Lost Beloved will bestow a peck on the cheek.
Later, other pleasures without passion, he might seek.

Until then, she is expected to keep the children quiet.

All tasks have been completed and everyone's asleep.
The sun has long since succumb to the darkness of night.
The children silently sleep and their father snores.
She lies on her back, staring and conversing with the ceiling,
Wondering about tomorrow and whether she will still feel lonely.