Dirty Dishes – Poetry

Photo courtesy of beeveephoto on Flickr.

She has a plan
and good intentions,
but she stands at the sink
and washes the dishes.

Dirty water
won’t stop draining
and all she thinks
is of poetry writing.

She’s slowly falling apart.

She thinks of poetry.
A bubble she blows.
She refills the sink
and listens to Crows.

Where did i go?
Who am i now?
Am i exactly the same,
and if so, how?

The dishes are done,
and dinner is fine.
My insides turned out
what did i find?

I’m slowly falling apart.

 

LLH
11/15/17
7:06 pm

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