The Suds Crept Slowly Towards Me

As the weather here is pretty grotty I thought I’d share a poem to make you chuckle. Hope you enjoy.

The Suds Crept Slowly Towards Me

My washing machines gone potty it’s really on the fritz,
there’s water pouring everywhere, I’m going out my wits.
It’s gone off like Vesuvius, exploding like a bomb,
my husband’s y-fronts hurtled by and hit our poor old tom!

I’m paddling in two inches now, yet water’s gushing out,
as washing keeps on floating past, I give a feeble shout.
Soap suds are creeping up, overwhelming the kitchen floor,
even the cat has fled the scene as he shot off out the door.

I fear my own obituary would tell a gruesome tale,
consumed by soaking socks and suds, like Jonah and the whale.
Who would think that laundry day could be so rife with risk,
or Fairy suds would swallow me whole into the dark abyss.

But never fear, all ends well, my husband saves the day,
he switches off the dreaded beast and saves me from dismay.
Our mechanical brute is quiet at last, no longer spewing suds,
even our cat has now returned, just happy there’s no floods.

ⓒ Teresa Harrison-Best
April 2024