F is for the floor that I can never see,
I is for the injuries from Lego’s to my feet,
L is for the laundry , how the pile does grow!
T is for the tiredness that I try not to show.
H is for my hair, which always looks a fright,
Y is for the young ones, that make it all alright.
As filthy as my home seems and as tired as I may be,
My joy’s out grown, the mess that’s strewn,
And that’s all I’ll ever need.