Towels, a poem

My life revolves around the towels

I know, because, within my bowels

I can’t but hear, in hopeless growls,

A noise that sounds like feral fowls

As all my smiles turn down to scowls,

When faced with folding yet more towels.

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Photo Credit:
LumenSoft Technologies

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens


8 thoughts on “Towels, a poem

  1. Haha, I’ll fold your towels! I grew up with a mom who always forgot to fold them, so I ended up doing it and it somehow became quite meditative for me. Now I look forward to my washing towels day.

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