Sunday, June 19, 2011

Housework

The grass is worn away
Where laughing children play
My hair is pulled right back
And rolled sleeves show no slack
Washing goes from grey to white
As the sky goes from grey to bright
The vacuum growls as the mop squeaks
And like my moaning back the floor creaks
Dishes rinsed, wiped and in a line they shine
Now the rest of this sunny day is mine

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