The Mail Piles Up
The mail piles up when you’re away;
The plants may droop or wither,
But all else stays exactly so
If you go yon and hither.
The jacket you forgot to hang,
The food that’s going rotten
Were left in limbo with some other
Things perhaps forgotten.
The order you forgot to send,
The room in need of dusting
Wait patiently ‘til you return,
Like little children, trusting.
Then you get home and do those chores
You somehow left unfinished
Or add them to a growing list
That slowly gets diminished.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2022
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