Playing House

A Poem by Ronda

I have done your laundry
Folding it all exact.
I have made dinner, too
And a home so intact.

I made a bed of down
Where the feathers swarm
To lay your head upon
And make you feel warm.

So, off to work you went
And far away you’d go,
While I would wait for you
Gazing at the snow.

You would come back to
A vanilla scented home.
Still you would to complain,
So sure that I would roam.

And, I have spent many hours,
Often tinted blue,
Trying to make you trust me
And see that I was true.

But you still can’t understand
And I am tired of wondering why.
So now my plane is leaving.
Its time for me to say goodbye.