Those Fridays

November 1, 2007
Fridays too my mother goes to work
And not the work she gets money for,
The work that involves getting her hands dirty
From doing laundry, dishes, and cleaning the house.
Nobody ever notices.

I wake at seven and she is already up changing the laundry load.
When I gradually fall back asleep she comes to wake me again,
And slowly I rise into the shower,
Waiting for the water to warm.

Speaking sympathetically to her,
Who had made my clothes clean
And refined my dishes for breakfast.
How did I miss it, how did I miss it?
The compassion that is shown through the excessive work she does.

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