By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 14, 2013 Poem for a Washday By Miranda Snow Walton She could not write a poem, she said,About the flowers and trees,But on her washday line, I sawPoems fluttering in the breeze.She used such gay, embroidered wordsThat passers-by could tellHer cottage was a shrine, with loveA daily ritual.She told of happy hearts withinWhose care was her delight,Of him who shared her every joyComing home at night.And there were...
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