Drip

Upon reading some of the poems I had written, a friend of mine and fellow writer, Mrs. Barbara Leachman suggested I write a poem based on a memoir she had written a while back. That memoir is also posted on this blog. Little is Big was an inspiring snapshot into her life, and this is what I ended up writing based on it.

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

Pout firmly on my lip.

Drip. Drip. Flow.

Water down my elbow.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I’d rather let this dish slip.

Rinse. Rinse. Rinse.

I’d rather marry a fine prince.

Rinse. Rinse. Scrub.

Another dish, I’d never rub.

Rinse. Rinse. Rinse.

Think all the fun I’d never miss.

Scrub. Scrub Scrub.

Piles of dishes in my tub.

Scrub. Scrub. Rinse.

It’s been many years since

Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.

Nights all elbows in a tub.

Rinse. Rinse. Rinse.

I’ll use a story to convince

Rinse. Rinse. Pass.

My brother to dry dishes fast.

Rinse. Rinse. Rinse.

Couldn’t see what I would miss.

Dry. Dry. Dry.

A new fancy caught my eye.

Dry. Dry. Stack.

Stories became my life soundtrack.

Dry. Dry. Dry.

I found something to make time fly.

Stack. Stack. Stack.

Now I’m looking way far back.

Stack. Stack. Done.

Of real problems, I had none.

Stack. Stack. Stack.

Of perspective, I must have had a lack.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Down memory lane, I took a trip.

Drip. Drip. Flow.

Water down my elbow.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I won’t let this lesson slip.