Three Sons Under Seven

Sometimes I stop to stare amazed
at what my boys have done:
the messes and the wreckage left
behind each busy son!
The couch is split from jumping feet,
they've drawn their artwork on a sheet,
I'm feeling ready to retreat,
and this day's just begun.

I try to stay on top of things,
but they outnumber me.
For every mess that I clean up,
They start another three.
The bathroom's shot -- the bedrooms too,
there’s no sense asking why or who,
the only thing that’s left to do
is love them, honestly.