In my grandmother's generation
The summer sun shined upon
The relentless, quiet occupation
Of women throughout the day.
The rays bleached the laundry
Hung out on washing days to dry.
At noon, it warmed the back
Of their necks and massaged
The kinks out of their resolve.
And so, they stopped and wiped
The sweat off their brows, and
Wondered if they might slip away
And have a cup of tea and a biscuit.
The summer sun shined upon
The relentless, quiet occupation
Of women throughout the day.
The rays bleached the laundry
Hung out on washing days to dry.
At noon, it warmed the back
Of their necks and massaged
The kinks out of their resolve.
And so, they stopped and wiped
The sweat off their brows, and
Wondered if they might slip away
And have a cup of tea and a biscuit.
(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)
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