Washing Dishes

Water poured forth from the tap

Dirty dishes turned to gleaming artefacts

I’d sit at the table watching mum with eyes glazed

No sense of her pride of place, by the sink she would stand

Where bubbles rose and fell, a metal kingdom so grand

I’d have danced amongst the bubbles, swam in rivers of lemon-scented soap, I’d have-

‘You’d make too much mess and waste too much soap.’

Mum’s voice came down like a guillotine

Crushing my watery dream


When I was younger, I always wanted to wash the dishes but my mum never let me. So this is dedicated to my mum, you should have let me do the chores back when I actually wanted to.