The clothes basket’s full again
you wonder if you’ll ever win.
You wash and dry, fold and stack
before you know it, the clothes are back.
Were do they go to get such dirt
those jeans and socks, the old plaid shirt?
The grime and grease, grass stains galore
you wash and dry, but there’s always more.
There’s magic in those dirty clothes
keep filling the basket – don’t smell like a rose!
Poetry & Art by Patricia Walter 2000 ©