washing up

a poem I wrote after doing the dishes

washing up

How tiring it is washing up
The silverware and coffee cups
Heavy feeding complicates
The task by soiling many plates

Through hills of suds I prayed
That we had a serving maid
I would smile and wink
At the old bag across the sink

I would make her wash in water hat
Scrub each dish, pan, and pot
I should stop dreaming and wasting time
It will never happen we haven't a dime

I married a man who never in his life
Washed a single dish with his wife
Or polished up a silver plate
But he boasts about being the perfect mate

Drying the dishes with care
Its stressful and all I can bare
The lord of the house would give me up
If I dropped his beer drinking cup