A poem: One for the Mums

I write lots of poems and hope this one makes you :)))

She comes in the night

To fold & hang clothes,

And pair up your discarded shoes.

Sleeves rolled back tight

On solid knees bent,

She scrubs off the skids when you've pooed.

And When you've been sick,

There's beads on your brow

And your tongue's the hue of old spinach,

It's she who will rub,

Hug, kiss and soothe - 

She don't mind that your breath smells of cabbage.

Even when you're grown

The fairy's still there,

You wonder who bothered to launder.

But you'll know she's been round

'cos your cups will be clean

And your books alphabetically ordered.