Peculiar, her poetry personified
Objects like a washing machine
In ways that signified a measure
Of startling creativity and hilarity
She considered reading as a pastime,
A precious one, not pitiful penance,
In her poetry, her pen patted her paper
Like a chum, and her washing machine
Was a laundry, lonely lad who muttered,
Mattered, burped as he munched a range
Of grey garments rammed into his mouth
By her weary mom every Friday afternoon!
