Saturday, a day to launder
Ripping my whole world asunder.
Matching socks that aren't dry
It's enough to make me cry.


In the tub the bedclothes go,
Sloshing, sloshing to and fro.
Don't want to hang them all outside.
The wind will blow them far and wide.


Out of Downy, Lord, they'll stink
And what will the neighbors think?
Get out the iron, (This is harsh)
I'll spray them all with a little starch.


I have a set of sheets of satin
frilly edges with some tatting.
Never put them on the bed.
They're what I hang out instead.


The neighbors judge all and sundry
By the way we do our laundry.
This is how I keep first place,
Hanging unused sheets trimmed with lace!



By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

 


 

 

 

 

 

Today We Live



Deaf Music



Red Rose, Red Rose



Valentine Date



My Valentine



Haiku: Driftwood Beach



I Love You Truly



Love



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