Pile o’ Dishes

It never ends

It drains your soul

And Grief contends

With Stones To Roll

And Endlessness

And Lack of Fun

And What a Mess

We’ve just begun.

..

It must be done

And so let’s bless

The ship we run

Tight, more or less

And grab a bowl

And make some friends

And tell some droll

Tale and ascend.