Although I am about to drop,
I’ll just do this before I stop.

I’ll dust the stairs, put out the bin,
I’ll bring the still wet washing in.

A woman’s work is never done:
I’ll finish something I’ve begun.

But one thing’s not enough for me.
With ‘while’ I could be doing three.

And ‘just’s’ a wedge to squeeze in more.
(Excuse me, I’ll just sweep the floor.)

It’s just the same at work as home.
I calculate, I write, I phone . . . 

But things cannot go on this way.
I think I’ve done enough today.

Let while be something outside me:
The turning earth, the waving sea.

Let just be me upon some beach,
Just sorting pebbles within reach.