Chores

CHORES

I think I was a feminist

Way, way before my time.

And now I can explain it

By means of a Rinkly Rime.

I was a little evacuee

During the second world war

And my hosts expected me to do

A certain evening chore.

After the meal was over.

Whatever were my wishes,

I was given a tea towel

With which to dry the dishes.

The son of the house was older

By only one short year

But did he have to do the drying?

Goodness me! No fear!

When I queried the situation

 I certainly got no joy.......

'What! Trevor do the dishes!

Don't be silly, dear! He's a boy!'
And in that short split second
I became a Suffragette.
(Historically, maybe not
But I feel the seething yet!)

It seemed so terribly unfair

And when I became a wife

I still objected to 'women's work'

Though it was my lot in life.

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TRICK OR TREAT

(An Acrostic)

To tell the truth, at Halloween

Rarely have I felt too keen.

I've lived my life in various places,

Countries where those Pumpkin Faces,

Kids as Ghosts and Witchy creatures,

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Often with very scary features,

Revel in knocking at the door.

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Truly, I find it all a bore!

Recently, in the Land of Oz,

Even we've succumbed because

Australians copy other nations,

Taking-over their celebrations.

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Commercialism likes the date

But I fear, with me, it doesn't rate.

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