The House of Love

Our home is the house love built.
Sometimes we might fight, but will feel guilty.
It`s to be expected with little boys.
I slice deep through their every ploy.
Their bio-mom did every tie sever.
They could be my best gift ever.

My little cherubs will tussle,
though suppertime is the big hustle.
Whether over beef or pork,
somehow they will loose their fork
Sometimes they will throw fries,
my rowdy, busy little guys.

If the clock tolls higher,
the housework gets very dire.
Off to bed they lumber.
See the little fellows slumber.
Cuddled up with their pets,
This is the best time of my life yet.