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Washing Machine
Washing machine,
adorned in a suit of faded plastic acrylic
Sitting alone on the balcony, exposed to the elements
Television, where the center of all the children’s attention is
A sleek black exterior suitable for the living room
Even the hair dryer has a streamlined shape
Held tightly in the hand like an intimate dance
The record player has been promoted with honors to antique
An elegant tone more popular than anyone else
The boring washing machine has never had a theme song
Just dust and rain keeping other away
Never a word of complaint, it will wash however much you throw in it
During the spin cycle, it always gives everything it’s got,
until it’s trembling
So many years have passed, spin cycle after spin cycle
The lonely, brave washing machine is aged but still doing its best
Coffee machine, imported from Europe with a noble, educated air
The children are grown and they love drinking lattes around it
The washing machine has always been accepting and forgiving
Its only concern is when the sun will come out
Even my retired CD player
Has brought me on adventures and romances
The beers and ice cream inside the fridge’s belly
Has consoled many a sleepless, loveless heart
The boring washing machine never learns to please
Washing its way through countless seasons and then a century
All the appliances live with a roof over their heads,
protecting them from the elements
It is the only one operating alone in a corner on the balcony
So many years have passed, spin cycle after spin cycle
The lonely, brave washing machine is aged but still doing its best
Suddenly, one day,
I just want to help put clothes in the washing machine
Discover that it was already broken, just hadn’t been replaced yet
I wondered who had been washing all the messes I made clean
For such a long time,
my mother had been washing all my clothes
Never a word of complaint,
she will wash however much you throw
She always gives everything she’s got, until she’s trembling
So many years have passed, spin cycle after spin cycle
Before discovering that my mother has always been my silent washing machine
Before discovering that her wrinkles marked a debt I can’t repay
Before discovering that her silhouette is an image I cannot forget