I don't know why,
but it's not something that I'm needing.
It covers the bed, the couch, the floor;
I'm not sure how,
but each day there is more, more and more.
Maybe it's all the spinning about;
I don't care what,
but it's bringing the laundry love out.
Whatever it is or how it's done;
I don't wanna know,
but this must be how laundry has fun.
Lovely, Ruth! I just may have to frame this and post it in my laundry room. It might make the chore more bearable. Might.
ReplyDelete-Carrie
I love this! The rhyming drew me in and the topic of laundry even more. I can't tell you how many times my clothes have just hung out in the basket until it's time to wear them and then throw them into the dirty clothes hamper.
ReplyDeleteLaundry Love--you can't beat that concept!!!
ReplyDeleteVery energetic and downright peppy poem, Ruth! :) While I was reading, I was thinking about how COOL it is that your husband DOES laundry at your house.
ReplyDeleteI am lucky enough to have a husband who does the laundry, can you believe it?! This poem reminded me of a poem one of my students wrote earlier this year about the same topic. There is something about the routine and repetition of laundry that lends itself perfectly to the rhythm of poetry.
ReplyDeleteYea a poem! Thank you thank you thank you.
ReplyDelete(but i still don't like laundry.)
Love the poem. Happy laundry love! Wish they would produce all the missing socks!
ReplyDeleteYour poetry is fantastic. I started nodding when you said that the laundry is breeding. If I ignore it one night (which I did tonight to watch a fellow friend's baby), the laundry gets a mind of it's own and grows, grows, grows.:)MaryHelen
ReplyDelete