A woman’s work that’s rarely done
Lying here, I’m composing a poem, Thinking of words that rhyme, When I really should be making the bed, Not on it, wasting time. I should be putting the clothes on to wash Or cleaning the kitchen floor, But all I can think of are rhyming words Like chore and ignore and snore. I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, A domestic goddess I am not, I might be considered a clutter queen Who doesn’t give a jot. But several times a month That’s when I have my friends round And I love to see my visitors But they long to catch me out My lovely ‘Dust Inquisitors’. If one of them calls unexpectedly I’ll pretend that I’ve gone out As the thought of them seeing my idleness Would shame me without a doubt. Yes, this woman’s work is rarely done And that’s certainly true in this home, So the housework can wait till tomorrow As I’d rather be writing this poem! Vanessa Brown, Croydon, Surrey.