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My mother is a washing machine

Lonely, insignificant washing machine,
Washes the clothes and bedsheets clean,
Working tirelessly day by day,
Alone, tired and always in pain.

Never complains, just loves, she does,
the washing machine was fair and just,
washing every shirt and dress,
down to tiny socks and pants.

Curious I was about the machine,
I snuck out one night and took a peek,
I thought it was the washing machine,
Wrong I was, oh yes, it seems.

Sitting on a little stool,
Scrubbing, rinsing and wringing the clothes,
It was mother, messy hair and all,
Washing my mischief and the mud from the park.

My mother is my washing machine,
truly she is, she is more than that, it seems.
Faithful, loving, gracious and bright,
Mother always loves to smile.

Once when I was a little girl
I wanted fried chicken and she said, 'To KFC we go!'
We ordered a snack plate for RM5
I ate the flesh but she ate the bones.

When I was a teen, I was really rude,
I slammed the door and shouted, 'I HATE YOU, I DO!'
Little did I know, I had broken her heart,
She cried in the corner, but did not shout.

I know its not mother's day,
We should appreciate our mothers anyway.
Thank you for all these years of love,
patience, kindness and generousness.

Mommy, momma, mama or ma,
We will always be the baby in her heart,
Beautiful, golden is her heart,
I love you, mother, and that will never stop.

**This poem was inspired by 五月天's 《洗衣机》.


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