Dishes (A Poem)

 

Image courtesy of Pixabay

I spend a good chunk of my evening

Washing silverware, plates and bowls.

By the next morning,

The sink is once again full.

What do those dishes do

When we're asleep at night?

Were they waiting for us to go to bed?

Did they stay out of sight?

Did they decide to have a party,

A rave in our sink?

Or are they able to multiply like rabbits?

I just don't know what to think.

Maybe it's a simpler explanation

Perhaps it's someone just trying to be funny. 

Whatever the truth is,

I just wish the same thing would happen inside my wallet with my money.


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