Where the Laundry Lays

There’s this place in my house where the laundry lays; pile upon pile has formed

No color code or structure no method at all

Just stack of clothes meant to be worn

Though I desire organization I know the translation of each stack of denim and fabric

With each stack that I make I know something more important awaits

So I throw the loads where the laundry lays


I let the whites pile high so I could fly kites outside

The colors spread wide as I slipped down the slide

The sheets barely dried but still the work was denied


There is barely room left where the laundry lays

So I can no longer wait today is the day

I will fold I will sort all while I reflect

On the moments that happened away from where the laundry was left


As I sorted and folded and put them away

The clothes seemed to understand why I left them all those days

And just as I thought the bottom of the pile was in sight

A little hand reached up and tugged with all its might

For attached to the hand was my spirited child

So brave and so lovely; so sweet and so wild

He was ready to fly kits, run wild, and once again play

So a little bit will remain where the laundry lays



I wrote this poems in hopes that even just one momma or daddy out there striving for perfection or feeling overwhelmed; will let go of the piles (of stress, mess, and laundry) and let herself given in to the moment with child-like faith. And that he or she will see the beauty of living REAL.

With Grace&Love,

LaVonda Marie



5 thoughts on “Where the Laundry Lays

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