Musings At The End Of The Day

You can't see that I worked hard today
Folding, scrubbing, washing and deodorizing,
My shoulders painfully retain

Each movement much to my disdain
I wonder why the mind can't hold onto memories
The same way as the other muscles retain
Painful echoes of the day's simple gains?

If I don't write down my thoughts I'd feel
That maybe this day wasn't real
I seem to move in similar patterns daily
My body stays the same
Only the seasons and the clothes change.

I sit and rock and sometimes stop,
Either lost in sleep, dreams, or thoughts.
Time winds up and time winds down
Have I ever done anything to astound
People I know and people that I don't?
What legacy is purposefully left in my wake?
Is there anything for anyone to take?