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coming home so weary,
working nine to five
with the feeling I must be
the most exhausted Mom alive.
greeted with the knowledge
my dishwasher's on the blink
seeing an avalanche of dirty dishes
piled up in the sink.
how will I ever do it, Lord?
then I feel the answering tug
of a little hand, reaching out for me
God's love within my daughter's hug.

by Deborah P Kolodji

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This poem is Copyright 1996 by Deborah P Kolodji

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