Today
On
The
Kitchen
Ship,
To
Clean
Up
Every
Smudge
And
Drip.
The
Stove
Has
Gained
An
Oily
Sheen,
And
In
The
Micro
Is
Something
Green.
I Must
Confess
Disorder
And
A
General
Mess
Don’t
Trouble
Me
As
Once
They
Did.
I Would
Cheerfully
Be
Rid
Of
The
Mundane
Chore,
Which
Long
Ago
Became
A
Bore,
But
Dinner
Looms
And
I’ll
Return,
To
Roast
Some
Morsel
I May
Burn.
Sad
To
Say,
Every
Task
I Did
Today
Will
Tonight,
Be
Wiped
Away.