I have ironed my husband's shirts, oh, very smoothly;
I wish I could as easily erase
His frowning, worried look of inattention
I can not read the new lines in his face.
Mary lets me iron her crepes and laces;
I wonder if she thinks that Mother's hands
Would tear the fine-meshed fabric of her lovedream?
I wish she knew that Mother understands.
Jack likes the finest nainsook, trim, athletic,
Next to his skin. Most finical of men,
How can he bear to waste his time on Gladys?
I wish he were a little boy again.
Oh, well! My task today is just the ironing;
But while I iron, I can not help but pray
Dear Lord, please let me smooth my loved ones' pathways;
Please do not let them drift too far away!
__May Willams Ward.
May Williams Ward
(Atlanta: The Bozart Press. 1929)