CALL ME CRAZY

CALL ME CRAZY

The children look at me and snicker
when I complain of how they bicker;
they don't realize I'm not whining,
that their rivalry I'm not defining.

They call me crazy but it's okay,
long as I live to see another day.
Roses are red, violets are blue -
why don't I get flowers from you?

Left all alone to my own devices
I look around for a knife that slices
sharp cheese to go with my toast,
culinary art I try but do not boast.

I've lived a half a century or more
making do without going to a store;
and I still drive but they all pass by,
making crazy circles; ask me why!

I'm up all night and sleep all day,
just because I like it more that way.
it's peaceful and quiet, no shouting;
about my sanity, even I am doubting.

They can call me crazy if they want,
they can joke and laugh and taunt;
someday they too will be old and gray,
and understand why I'm this way.

Countrymom






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