Love #4
Notice me. Working quietly
to serve you. Fall for
silence. Not much more
than a pile of dirty
dishes, an unswept floor.
Hold me like I’m warm
from the dryer, inside
out and needing
my wrinkles rubbed
smooth. It’s hard
to love a chore.
But do it every day
and your hands
become practiced.
5 thoughts on "Love #4"
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Love hold me like I’m warm from the dryer! Like this poem!
“It’s hard to love a chore”
You have punched me in the guts. This is a good poem.
I love this poem so hard, you have no idea. I am sorry I cannot express myself better at the moment, but I shouted with glee at some of your turns of phrase. Particularly “hold me like I’m warm from the dryer.” There is a witness to my exclaiming. She laughed at me. Not at you. Thank you.
What amazing lines, here at the heart of your poem:
Hold me like I’m warm
from the dryer, inside
out and needing
my wrinkles rubbed
smooth.
I can relate to this, personally, Christopher…