all of three,
upset I was washing the broiler pan -
without her
Move over Dad!,
She commanded,
as she pushed me aside,
so her stepstool
could plant in the middle
of the space before the sink
Craning on tiptoes
hands and arms cresting the countertop
just enough so she could help
Scrubbing the greasy pan,
fresh from the barbecue
the night before,
with a sponge that
swirled the sudsy water
mostly.
After, her little hands,
cupped in my left,
giggled under the finger rain
of the sprayer in my right
edited April 10, 2015
Finger Shower – v2
5/30/05 21:34
Finger Shower
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poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
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reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
See all 37,010+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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