Smash crash gash

 

swish swish swish
I’m wiping a wet cloth over a dish
splosh splosh splosh
I’ve got so many dishes to wash
splash splash splash
I slip on a puddle, go down with a crash
as my head hits the floor I hear something smash
I’m up on my feet in a blink and a flash
a glance in the mirror reveals a long gash
and beneath my nose is a blood red moustache
washing
the
dishes
was
foolish
and
rash

This was meant to be a poem about the mundane, but it got a bit silly.

Dedicated to Judy because she gave me the idea, even though I got a bit carried away.

©Jane Paterson Basil