my washing machine is in revolt
and I fear that I am to remain a Domestic Goddess
eighteen years and five children later
this was not how I imagined my life
I once had aspirations of being a poet
a famous poet -
with excerpts appearing in other poet's works
each year passing
another wrinkle in the place
where a poem used to be
you have never held me back
you have always been supportive
encouraging me to follow my dreams
But sometimes -
dreams fade in the waking hours
and the pile of poems in my head
are laundered with the daily washing
folded and forgotten.
From domestic goodness poetry comes.
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