Raymond A. Foss Poems

Back to Poems Page

Our little helper,
all of three,
upset I was washing the broiler pan -
without her

Move over Dad!,
She commanded,
as she pushed me aside,
so her stepstool
could plant in the middle
of the space before the sink

Craning on tiptoes
hands and arms cresting the countertop
just enough so she could help

Scrubbing the greasy pan,
fresh from the barbecue
the night before,
with a sponge that
swirled the sudsy water
mostly.

After, her little hands,
cupped in my left,
giggled under the finger rain
of the sprayer in my right

5/30/05 21:34

Email This Poem to a Friend

Previous Poem | Next Poem

View Raymond A. Foss:  Poems | Quotes | Biography | Books

Copyright © 2006 - 2010 Famous Poets And Poems . com. All Rights Reserved.
The Poems and Quotes on this site are the property of their respective authors. All information has been
reproduced here for educational and informational purposes.