I could always go to a laundromat
Toss away the basket without a care
But your handwash is still the standard
And up to this day, it's beyond compare.
You can topple mountains of ***** clothing
Even before the sun gets to call it noon
Taking your skillful palms to a rhythm
More powerful than a wild monsoon.
With natural precision and technique
You'd feel each fabric and make them clean
A stream of colors that changes every week
You unfold them neatly for the humid winds.
From silly pants and hand-me-downs
You leveled wrinkles and washed the grimes
To buttoned shirts and graduation gowns
Your hands have stood the test of time.
Dried and folded, ironed and hanged
It's nothing short of a magical sight
A bundle of comfort, a pile of warmth
Just a peak of your motherly might.