Forest dew and lavender The scent that I remember Along with the gushing of streams of water By the banks of the river.
Oh, to the River, where I always go Covered in filth and shame, and so I am just determined to tread the path Leading to the place whilst bearing all the wrath
"When will it ever stop? Will it ever go away?" I'd contemplate as I walk unsteadily along the muddy surface... Yes, I'd trip and stumble, but I must get up and keep going I must get to that sacred place for I had a lot to confess.
But even with great difficulty that I carry my bucket Full of soiled clothing, dirty linens and undergarments, My eyes are still fixed on to my destination Totally resolved to disregard my own disbelief and derision.
So, every day, I go to this River where boulders are perfectly disposed As if they were laid down there for a specific purpose, For it is where I'd sit on and commence the cleansing rite And see the grime being washed away by the flowing water... And I say, "What a beautiful sight!"
This is a freewrite exercise using @mariannewest's Monday prompt: laundry day.
Thank you for reading.