Thistle Down

By Ethel

Wondering

"Mother", please fix my dress,
For the dance tonight.
"Mother", wash my gym-suit,
Clean and white.

"Mother", feed old Shep,
Out in the shed.
"Mother", find my shoe,
It was under the bed.

Years have passed by,
Now Mother is alone.
Her darlings are rearing,
Kids of their own.

They fuss and they fume,
They repeat it again.
"How in the world,
Did Mother raise ten"?

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