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Twins
There's two
to wash;
There's two to dry;
There's two to argue;
There's two to cry.
One's in the mud,
having a ball;
one has a crayon,
just look at the wall.
Somedays seem endless;
patience grows thin;
why was I chosen to be a mother of twins?
The answer is clear
at the end or the day,
when I tuck them to bed to myself I say:
There's two to kiss;
there's two to hug;
and best of all there's two to love!
By Uncle Chuck
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