Poetry Jam: Dirty Laundry

wooden-laundry-washing-clothes-line
http://gratisography.com/

The rain pelts down.

My heart stops.

Did I leave the washing out?

Scrambling quickly, I

trip over the doorstep and into

the mud.

There I start laughing – my hair drenched, my backside sore.

Oh well. 

At least the clothes are clean.

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