Where Do The Days Go?

Where Do The Days Go?

I've just sat down to write again; I've been meaning to write another post for days.  I think I have said and written this before! but looking after Mum means the days just roll into one, and I end up asking the same old question:

WHERE DO THE DAYS GO?

I sit here - at the computer -
Thinking how the days all roll into one;
I look at the date I last logged on
Where have the past 9 days gone?

It's not that I've dallied
Or let things drift out of sight....
My days have been filled
From morning 'til night

With inexorable duties
That have to be done;
No time to relax
In the setting sun.

You might catch a glimpse
Of the evening star
But the washing and ironing
Are more important by far.

It's a strain keeping going
As the pressure mounts up;
It's hard to find moments
To eat and to sup.

But at one in the morning,
When Mum is tucked up in bed,
I can dream and write poetry,
All the lines in my head.