Thursday, 13 February 2014

Ironing (rondeau)

I'm ironing to smooth my mind,
Erase the creases left behind
In folds of matter white and grey,
Applying heat and pressure, they
Work in long firm strokes I find
To press the folds, caused by the grind
Of loneliness, into peace.  Kind
Soothing strokes take pain away,
To smooth my mind,
And leave me calm.  As I unwind
And tension falls the balm's inclined
To leave me dull, I cannot play,
Only press on, worthily, stay,
Docilely ironing, resigned,
To smooth my mind.

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