Other People's Kids

 

She walks in armor like a knight
with polished chrome and blade of steel,

Always keep the kids in sight
to know when cries are fake or real,

Her visor hides her puffy eyes
peanut butter in her hair

A cranky child at her side
no one else does seem to care,

Off to school the last one goes
collapsing with a glass of wine

Aching now from head to toe
Grateful none of them are mine.

(A work in progress)
     apologies to Lord Byron