Soap froth sprays in the air
Up down up down it goes
Rhythmic swings don't care
If the detergent smells of rose!
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So far I haven't read a single poem on a washer woman..... This is a moving portrait in motion! ! ..Like the clothes she dries in the sun, her hopes are all dried up.... but she has no time to rub her bruises ! How many are there around us who are fated to work round the clock without even the time to look up at the sky! ! These unsung heroes and heroines really deserve our thought!
A thought-provoking poem. She may be busy at work, but you can be sure she is still aware of her own pain. Memory does not fade, no matter how hard the labor. Well written, Pradip.
Good morning poet Pradip. This was such an interesting poem and you painted such a clear picture of the washerwoman. I enjoyed, Loyd
A great write especially yourself being a male touching sensitive issues. Well done once again.