Jack Clark Poet Rhyme

Mom

Daily there were clothes to wash
The load count was always five
Then there were the meals to fix
So her children could survive

She swept the floors and dusted
And washed dishes mountains high
Back then no conditioned air
In the hot days of July.

With a needle and some thread
She mended family clothes
And as she sewed she rarely thought
Of sorrows or of woes.

Grocery shopping was another thing
Of her chores each week
Always she wore gingham
In a dress way past antique 

The hours they turned into days, 
And the days turned into weeks
As the weeks went into years
They brought lines onto her cheeks

Her roughened hands and furrowed brow
Put gray steaks in her hair
Then, her children grown and gone,
She found her rocking chair.

And as she sat there rocking
Looking backward at her past
She knew she’d done God’s calling
And her job was done … at last

The creaking of the rocking chair
Was music to her ears
And daily she relived the life
Of all her prior years

She had lived life fully
From childhood through her prime
Right up to when
The chair claimed all her time.

No more mounds of dishes
No more mountains’ clothes
And with a smile in a rocking chair
Her life came to its close.

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