Her steam starched, water whitened, raw reddened hands
smelled of bluefish and clean pots hot and drying.
One hip cocked, unwantonly saucy,
her pen approaches pad as though taper to votive candle.
...
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Brilliantly written. A keen eye for detail. You've painted a picture with the minutest brush strokes, and the canvas is full... Love, Fran xx
Great poem with profound metaphors and fortified emotions, of the true reality.