I'm Doing Laundry

Whose clothes these are I think I know,
The pants and socks cast to and fro'.
They will not see me stooping here,
To pick the dirty piles up so.

A looker-on might think it queer
With machines so very near
That I myself would get and take
The clothes dropped by my kids so dear.

The washer spins and gives a shake
As if to say it's going to break.
I hope it won't for I would weep-
The laundry then would overtake.

The bed is cozy, I could sleep
But I have laundry that's knee deep
And piles to go before I sleep,
And piles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost I am not...but I was inspired.