Housewife Poem by Randy McClave

She bedraggled her skirt over the muddy floor
As though she was cleaning it again once more
Into the house that she had once known well
Some called it a home, but she called it a hell
She saw the stove where she once cooked the meals
Even the bin where she placed the potato peels
Into the house she walked that now is vacated
Inside these same walls she once seemed isolated
Up first in the morning and the last one to bed at night
That was her daily routine and she always stayed quite
As it was her alone that kept the family together
As a wife, cook, cleaning lady, nurse and mother
She thinks of the empty house where she once called home
Remembering then that she was enclosed in a sealed dome
She took one last tour of the house where she once survived
Now the cobwebs and dirt and filth as vermin has arrived
Her dress now sweeps over her ancient Welcome Mat
No longer no more would she be a peace-giver or diplomat.