Labour of Love

When she was done

cooking and cleaning

scrubbing and watering

and tending to

it was already past noon

till enough love was proven.

The lazy afternoon

watched her

as she picked up  

with thimbled fingers,

a needle and some colourful threads

in her leisure time.

She sleepily sewed together

labour and love

for they always sat

up too close when with her

and inside the house.

The entangled threads

Would not let love go free of labour

or labour free of love.

After trying hard

she picked up the scissors

and as they glided their way

through the mess

love and labour were into

Swish! Went the plastic umbilical.

And now her love,

like his,

was free of labour.

And her labour,

like his,

could go out and earn.

The afternoon exhaled

and empathetically

lulled her to sleep.