Dishes
Ok one poem,
Then to work for me.
I felt guilty this morning,
Then I broke down,
And washed my dishes.
I thought I would drown.
The plate wasn’t so bad,
Nor was the spoon,
But the pan lid and pan,
Sung a different tune.
I got in there and did it,
I was bound and determined.
It took less than a minute,
To my good fortune.
It seemed an eternity,
To get this job done,
Is not where I wanted to be,
It was not much fun.
The water was so hot,
That the grime couldn’t riot,
Next time You come over,
Then you can try it.
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008
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