Judy Brumby-Lake

The Perpetual Whiner

The cacophony of laughter was emanating

from the sun-enhanced, salubrious children

who were playing in

the playground across the road.

Pressing her soiled hands

against her tear-drenched, sallow face,

Mary wanted to scream out:

“Go away laughter, go away,

I still have a lot of drudging work to do.”

Their laughter was menacingly

intrusive to her dismal domain

where one chore came after another -

day after day.

She braced herself against the acids of life

as she continued her tasks.

Even though she had washed the dishes and

peeled numerous vegetables, had swept the floor,

and had taken a bowl of warm water

to wash the prone figure

on the bed in the next room,

her chores were still only half done.

Seeing a pile of clothes on the floor,

She threw them into the bathtub

and ran the water,

then she jumped on top of them,

as grape pressers do with grapes.

She was hoping to clean them,

even though there was a washing machine nearby,

but her hands were too small

and immature to turn the knobs.

© Judy Brumby-Lake