She wore a gingham apron,
battled dirt on hands and knees
while garments washed swayed brightly
on a clothesline in the breeze.
She sewed and worked a garden,
did the dishes all by hand;
her wiggling giggling kids
would straighten up at her command.
Her leftovers were loved as much
as was the ginger cake
she drizzled with that special sauce
she always used to make.
Today they’d call her backwards,
for no feminist was she!
But all she’d ever daydreamed of
was what she came to be.
(For Mac's "Anything Goes Again" contest)