The Eater Of Dirt

Kept out of the way, not to be seen,

Is the rag with which you like to clean,

Underappreciated in a heap,

Waiting in a bucket to earn its keep,

Your dirt picked up in its vast enfold,

It does not rebuke and does not scold,

Absorbing the muck, providing shine,

So that all is in order, all is fine,

When this rag’s luster is faded, lost,

It prepares itself for being tossed,

After all it is covered in muck,

Become loathsome in your very yuck,

Can’t bear even the thought of its touch,

The transferred dirt being much too much,

Better just use a rag that is new,

Clean, for all your new dirt to imbue.

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This entry was posted in 2017 and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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