happy laundry


White bed sheets on laundry-lines.
Flapping in the wind like sails.
An armada of ships ready for
adventures in far away places.
Take me with you.

Mother and I stretching the sheets between us.
Folding them neatly.
Summer.
The scent of fresh laundry.
Butterflies fluttering and flirting.
Bees dancing between flowers.
Birds chirping.
Flies buzzing.
Lemonade.

That was then.
Then came now.
Chores. Washing. Cleaning. Ironing. Folding, Hanging. Cleaning. Washing. Ironing, Folding, Hanging. Washing....

Until a far away place where I found a man who never forgot the joy.

Comments

Tore, you are writing poetry. You should get an agent. Unfortunately, it pays even less than advertising.