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I would tell  you stories- hilarious tales-

but I am too busy trying to make sales

the phone won’t stop ringing, emails clog my PC

I drive ‘cross the nation ‘till my tank is empty

dishes and laundry piles grow ever higher

‘When will you clean us?” they seem to inquire

‘I’ll get to it later’ I think as I’m leaving

and hope it gets better just by my believing

my husband and I see each other.. not much

when I’m running  and selling and showing and such

“Then where is the money dear Liza?” he’ll croon.

“the sale from five months ago should pay out soon.”

and now I must leave to dash hither and yon

I would tell you stories but… too late

I’m gone

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