Mom, you smell…. You need a bath.
I feel sad at her continued failings
At the same time, I have to laugh
She is so cutely knowing amid her wailings.
The next morning she announces, “I bathe today.”
So I help her step into the tub
And enjoy her glee as I spray her body
She washes her privates, we’re not that old, yet.
She makes her gleeful chortle, meaning all is well
This indicates she feels good about her task
She looks at me and asks, “Do I really smell?”
“It happens, when you don’t wash all week,” I reply at last.
I sorrow at the psoriasis, her old age bane
As I gaze at her baby soft, lily-white skin,
Her gray years marred with vanity’s disdain
Such irony, her beauty meant so much to her.
So Mom, I help you complete your gentle wash
You dry and primp with no slips, no mishap
Each good moment is my time to cherish.
Completely worn out you take your morning nap.
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