My five year old husband and three year old son.
I was the only girl. So I was the mother.
We were a happy family.
The man of the house spotted a gap in a bush.
‘In we go!’ We followed him into our home.
I spread my picnic set on the ground.
Rolling up my sleeve,
I served miso soup with air,
filled a rice bowl with sand.
I wiped my glistening forehead.
I did it for my family.
When the sun’s orange, cloud were grey,
a woman came calling, ‘boys, come home.’
When can we meet again?
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