I Love My Family, But There Is No Place Like Home

by Helen Graebner

The windows shine, the floor is freshly scrubbed;
My shoulders ache, they feel how hard I rubbed.
I give one final twitch to curtain ruffle
And to a chair with weariness I shuffle
To view with pride the end of all my work --
All dust is gone, no webs in corners lurk.

And while I rest, admiring wearily
Small daughter bounces in with energy
"Oh, gee", she says, "I've something in my shoe."
And while I voiceless stare what does she do
But take off shoe and nonchalantly pour
A mound of sand right on my fresh scrubbed floor!

And while in horror there I sit and stare
Son's voice calls out, "Hey, Mom, you got a dish?
Boy, have I caught a whopping fish!"
And dripping wetly all across the rugs,
That clammy odorous fish he proudly lugs!

I'm numb by now -- I hardly move
When husband's voice calls gaily from above,
"I found it here in this old trunk,"
And on the table dumps a pile of junk!

They stare in wonder when I wildly shriek
With tearing rage and stumble weak
Upstairs and jump into my bed
And pull the covers up above my head.

Grandmother
Helen Graebner

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