On Laundry Day

On laundry day, some duties intercept
my exercise, my writing, puzzle play.
I find old clothes and put them on, unkept,
on laundry day.

I wash tomorrow’s clothing choice today.
The hamper’s full. The time to clean has crept
up on me, iterating like cliche.

I’m old enough to be at this adept,
but not so old I’ll dress this purple way.
I’ll never be that grandmother, except
on laundry day.


This entry was posted in Aging, Home, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s