Description
The Dustbin
Today, my wife cleared out my wardrobe.
She threw away an old shirt
with torn sleeves and a stain down the front.
I pretended it was my favourite,
but really,
I hated it.
I didn't want to wear it
but I felt I ought to -
after all -
it was I who had ripped the sleeves
and carelessly spilled the curry
that refused to surrender to the most potent stain remover.
Continues...
Peter Cross
Today, my wife cleared out my wardrobe.
She threw away an old shirt
with torn sleeves and a stain down the front.
I pretended it was my favourite,
but really,
I hated it.
I didn't want to wear it
but I felt I ought to -
after all -
it was I who had ripped the sleeves
and carelessly spilled the curry
that refused to surrender to the most potent stain remover.
Continues...
Peter Cross
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