Douglas Brown Poet Free verse

The Laundry Room

She measures his time
With the soft sounds of the machines,
The whirr, 
The small thumps,
The humming.
Her husband
Sleeps in their darkened room
Just down the hall
Room 217
From my mother’s,
Room 221.

Before-
Her five-bedroom
And all the kids
The big laundry room
Where she spent
Hours with the scents
And touches
Fluffing, folding
Carefully into piles-

Like she does now
But with one small load
Over and over
Watching and guarding
Carefully keeping his moments
Going one at a time
With the turning
And tumbling 
While he sleeps.

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Ilene Bauer October 12, 2022 at 12:41 PM i agree with line, douglas - touching is the first word that came to me as well. beautifully written... Douglas Brown October 13, 2022 at 9:47 AM Thank you, Ilene.

Line Gauthier October 11, 2022 at 5:17 PM What a touching poem. Loved it. Douglas Brown October 11, 2022 at 7:57 PM Thanks Line. Appreciate it.