Posted in Monotetra

Garden Wasted

The yard work beckons with the dawn.
I meet the task with zeal and brawn
and toil until daylight’s gone.
The clock ticks on. The clock ticks on.

But now I’m weary, weak and wan.
More ugly duckling than a swan,
I really need a spa/salon.
The clock ticks on. The clock ticks on.

From pulling weeds and mowing lawn,
I haven’t got the strength to yawn.
The water hot, a bath is drawn.
The clock ticks on. The clock ticks on.

I throw my nearest nightgown on,
crawl into bed and thereupon
I sleep until again it’s dawn.
The clock ticks on. The clock ticks on.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 8/20/14 prompt at Creative Bloomings “Inform Poets” to write a Monotetra poem.

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