WASHING

WASHING

Laundromats aren’t lovely,
Most aren’t even quaint.
A lovely way to spend a day,
They usually ain’t.
        Some are hot and stuffy,
        Others drafty cold.
        I’ve rarely seen one that’s clean.
        Occasionally there’s mold!
                Washers "Out of Service,"
                Driers that clatter and ping.
                You’re lucky, indeed, if they meet your need
                And don’t destroy anything!
                        They gobble up the quarters
                        With no shame, they swallow four.
                        But it takes six to start their tricks,
                        And then they’ll take some more!
                                But ambience is not the point,
                                Nor comfort priority One.
                                The laundromat’s suds are to cleanse dirty duds,
                                And return them clean when done.
Soul cleansing’s not lovely, either.
It’s painful, and not really cool.
There’s loss of face and need for grace
For a self-admitted fool.
        Confession’s not clean or convenient.
        Too embarrassing to become fad!
        But the fires of guilt on my enemy spilt
        Make me feel secretly glad!
                But it’s me that needs repentance.
                I must pay the high cost of my wrong.
                It’s my knee must bend to wash foe into friend
                So that we both can be strong.
                        So, in spirit as well as in clothing
                        The goal: wash out grime and grease.
                        Never mind what it takes, for the difference it makes
                        Praises God with the sweet smell of peace.

9/9/2006 - mshr

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