The perpetual calendar must be wrong!
It says I was born on December 5,1941…
a Friday,
But that can't be, for Mama washed clothes
and hung them out on the line
the morning of the day
I was born.
She said it was
a raw, windy, blustery December day
when I was born
and everybody knows
Mama never ever washed clothes
except on a Monday
her whole life, because
Tuesday was for ironing,
Wednesday was for mending,
Thursday was for quilting, and
Friday was for cleaning house
in case we had company
over the weekend.
So, I could have been born on
a raw, windy, blustery day
like Mama always said,
but I think it was surely
a Monday.
The perpetual calendar must be wrong!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem