When she is gone
Hang your towel.
Fold your clothes.
Brush your hair
And scrub your face.
Make your bed
And clean the floor,
Mothers demand.
Nagging to you
It may seem.
But watch,
When she is gone
You will wish
She'd be there
To smile with love
And say once more:
Hang your towel.
Fold your clothes.
Brush your hair
And scrub your face.
Make your bed
And clean the floor.
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poet.in.the.making
Heyy! I'm just a girl who loves studying the ancient poets and aspires to write like them. I love constructive criticism too! I want to be able to grow in my writing! Thanks for reading my bit of Posey and write what you see within! Check out my blog at darklightedthoughts.blogspot.com!
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