Home Responsibility

By Winona F. Thomas

I thought to write a poem,
One was running through my head,
But I made you pajamas
To keep you warm in bed.

I could have made a picture,
But I knew you had no bread
I kneaded dough and baked the loaves
So that you would be fed.

I fingered the piano;
My music was outspread.
When I saw dust upon the floor
I cleaned your house instead.

That night my prayers
were heaven sped.
"Thank God for you,"
is what I said.