Wednesday, March 30, 2016

A Poem: Kitchen Dancing

Kitchen Dancing


Emily Woodham

Oh, the dryer isn’t working,
And the refrigerator’s pooped,
The stove hasn’t worked since February,
and the dishwasher’s looped.
We haven’t any money
To go to Italy or France
But it’s ok, my darling,
in the kitchen, we can dance.

The carpet needs a miracle,
the yard demands a crew,
and just behind the book stacks,
the walls beg another hue.
It’s a tad frightening
all the things in disrepair,
I wish I had a fairy godmother,
but I hear those are rare.

Then the children start their laughing
just before they turn out the light,
You whisper that you love me,
give a kiss or two good night.
And nothing else really matters,
not Italy or France,
As long as you hold me close,
in the kitchen while we dance.

©2016 Emily Woodham

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