Free download
Collabs from the MusesMuse and some recited poetry/lyrics.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #756
Peak in subgenre #103
Author
Sarah Frohmberg
Rights
Frohmberg 2004
Uploaded
December 29, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.3 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
This is based on a series of recurring dreams that - for whatever reason - I'm a single mom.
Lyrics
The cool sheets are a cruel reminder
as I slip into bed after countless kisses, stories,
and “no more drinks before bedtime”
my eyes barely closed - oblivion a breath away -
when I hear, “Mommy...”
I don’t allow myself even a sigh
“Yes, honey...” I see his damp P.J.’s
and pathetic face, so close to tears.
I hide my smile, brush my lips across his brow
and hold his hand as we choose a new outfit.
The empty passenger seat a cruel reminder
as I pull out of the parking lot,
my voice hoarse from cheering, so proud of my sons.
I referee the ride home with playful glares
into the rearview mirror and a quick flick to their knee caps.
I can’t help but smile as I say, “Cut it out or no ice cream!”
We pull into our drive during the fourteenth rendition
of “the awesome-est touch down ever”
I barely turn off the engine and they rush out of the car,
leaving all the windows and doors wide open.
The vacant aisle seat a cruel reminder
as I watch him run around the stage in a costume
hastily sewn together in the wee hours of the morning.
I clap enthusiastically, as only the mother of the palm tree can,
when the curtain swishes closed.
We meet my parents backstage and
just before we leave for a rare dinner out,
I catch Mom’s eye over the top of his head
and a little tear escapes the corner of my eye - I assure him,
“they’re happy tears, babe - I’m so proud of you!”
Late at night, at the kitchen table - a cruel reminder
that alone, I can barely make ends meet.
I shove my glasses on top of my head and rub my eyes.
Text books, bank ledgers, and permission slips scattered,
any organization had been ruined in frustration.
I glance at the clock and grimace, take another sip of coffee,
and then a bit of color catches my eye.
Under all the bills I wanted to burn,
was a small piece of construction paper with all four of us
clumsily drawn inside a crooked red heart.
