Oh washing piles,
In all your glory,
How you really do
Tell a story

Of favourite foods,
Of fun times had,
Of clothes worn by Mum,
That belong to Dad

Of colours & patterns
Chosen with love
& clothes, once big,
That fit like a glove

Oh washing piles,
How I must inquire…
Will you ever end?
As I so desire

All that time
I spend with you,
When just as I finish,
There’s more to do

How I really do wish
That we could be friends,
But, you’re like a ring
That never ends

Oh washing piles,
How do you feel?
When we hide you from friends
Who come for a meal

We like to pretend
That you don’t exist,
When really we know,
No house is missed

With all of the places
That you get shoved,
You couldn’t possibly feel
Appreciated & loved

Oh washing piles,
How I could go on,
But my washing-free time
Has almost gone

There’s a load on the line
& one in the machine,
My kids have just eaten
You know what I mean

There’s hanging & folding,
Oh that damn fitted sheet,
So it’s off I go –
Wash, fold, repeat

Yours sincerely,
Simone