Making Waves

My washing-up sink is a big sea of foam,

From where the plates set sail for home,

And submarine cups bob up and roll

Past mugs and jugs as they drift by a bowl,

And dishes drift on in the froth and the spray,

Over the waves, and far, far away,

While down on the seabed a fork and a spoon

Sing songs in the beams of the kitchen-light moon.

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5 Comments to “Making Waves”

  1. Washing up has never sounded so exciting! 🙂

  2. You infused life and beauty into a mundane task. Beautiful poem

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