Oh, dishwasher! Once, I had little love for the task
you selflessly gave your life to. The grind
Of daily opening yourself to our past
Messes, our slime, our muck, our wet
And soggy left-behinds, the parts
We don’t want to deal with, and yet,
You continually received and gave.
Oh, dishwasher! I have not forgotten
The days the sink became overwhelmed,
And I bemoaned my state of life, when
Crying kids and dirty floors spelled
Defeat. But, dishwasher! Never did
you let anything stand between us.
And though my bleary, grumpy eyelids
Flashed angry red in your direction, yes,
Your stalwart form remained faithful.
Oh dishwasher! I will never again take
Your job for granted. Your unsavory task,
I will never belittle or degrade, make
Light of or devalue. Dishwasher, I dare not bask
In your glorious triumphs. Your successes
As the master of an art cannot be catalogued history.
They are too great in number, and I profess
An undying tie to you as part of my own story.
Oh, dishwasher! I cry with watery plea, come back to me.