A Weekly Chore

Her knuckles sore as she spat and swore
whipping the cloth back and across

Crouched on her heels on the stone cold floor
The newspaper used as a rug

Her forehead smeared with black polish galore
She does her weekly chore

As she polished and shined four pairs of black shoes
On the eve of the Sunday mass
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Amah Avatar
October 21, 2009 at 1:58 PM
Probably, a more amusing core's recommended ... our world could be drudgery ... nature & creation actually disagree! Marie, ride on! Cheers! Canny.
Fraser Avatar
October 6, 2009 at 11:31 AM
Made me chuckle Marie >> James
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