November 13, 2018
And then she placed her rainbow broom
With colors across the spectrum
Leaned it against the kitchen chair
As her face grew very solemn
"Wash away the grime!" she says
Grasping the dripping mop
Soft and hard, wet and dry
She coats every exposed spot
Her face while working, 'tis so solemn
Watching the colored bristles drown
In soft and hard, wet and dry
And slowly but surely go brown
Soft and hard, wet and dry
Yet the children do not cry
They know how to laugh and play
Even when the sun's away
YOU ARE READING
Ajar
PoetryA daily journal full of poems of love, of joy and grief Pen enslaves the hand and paints the vast land of the canvas we call Speech
