Mama's Pet Helper
Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust,
That Singer, that for Mama was a must.
She tried her best to teach me how to sew,
But it was hard to catch me on the go.
I wanted a real job with ample pay,
At sewing lessons, I could never stay.
When Mom died, she left me her old Singer,
As antique as washer with a wringer.
The war years seemed like only yesterday.
While they lasted, I had a job with pay.
I bought my dresses off rack at Penney's,
And could afford to eat lunch at Denny's.
I kept Mom's picture on her old sewer.
She smiled at me sitting 'neath hair blower.
I started as my big dog gave a bark,
The candle sputtered, spent and all was dark.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2018
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