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