The Dirge Of Dirty Dishes

If we could rise above
a sea of bubbles,
stand fast against
the scour of blackened pans

Then we would know
that it was worth it,
this chapping of
such sensitive hands

Yea, we grieve for those
whose hands are chafed,
rubbed raw from
dish-detergent scourge

Pray those exposed
to the stinging of harsh soap,
lose not their hope and
from yon sink emerge.



© d.knape
October 13, 2015

More "Once Upon A Line" - Light verse and poetry by d.knape
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