Posted in Poem

“Laundered Disability”


Laundered Disability

 

Morning fulla dismaying glory –

Clenched, benched, drenched and even pinched.

Yawning with deranging fury –

Drilled, filled, milled and even spilled.

 

Falling into a meandering pothole –

Ached, scraped, raked and even faked.

Laundering my now mottled robe –

Trembled, humbled, addled and even disabled. 

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Author:

Besides fantasizing about being a Peter Gibbons at least for a couple of days at my work, I think I have a long way to go to realize some of the other fantasies. But like any ambitious man out there, I will get there! Note: All views expressed in this blog are mine alone and have got nothing to do with my company Cogent IBS, Inc., its employees or any of its affiliates.

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