A Laundry Poem
I entered the laundry room,
What did I see?
Laundry a plenty,
Just waiting for me.
I groaned and I cried! Why oh why did I not try,
To do small loads before they piled to the sky?
I grumbled and began to attack,
I'm going to conquer that stack!
My face was stern and my attitude abysmal,
Doing laundry makes me need Pepto-Bismol®.
Then I began to see not with my eyes but with my heart,
The loved ones who piled the clothes like art.
A leg growing so long and lean,
The pants can't keep up with my almost teen.
Cute little feet to fill those socks,
That are often repurposed as bags for rocks.
Goodbye Dora, Boots and Yo Gabba Gabba,
Make room for tie-dye shirts and leggings of fuchsia.
Football and soccer shirts were themes for awhile,
Now hoodies with snowboards or skateboards are more his style.
Plaid or striped oxfords and dress pants too,
Worn by the man who said "I want to marry you."
My grimace slowly began to turn to a smile,
It will be my honor to do their laundry for a long while.