Washing Up

The meal was over And with apprehension I took my plate to the kitchen Where I looked at the devastation Caused by its preparation. Who could guess That a cook could make such a mess. Pots and pans were everywhere Causing a washing despair Especially as I was the one To get it done. It would have been easier With a dishwashing machine But since last week it is a has-been Just when I need it most It gave up the ghost. To add to my dismay The water’s cold Because we were told They’re cutting the power today. Now the grease won’t budge It’s a sticky sludge That won’t go down the drain And remains everywhere. I can’t wait to go to heaven And see a sign No food or wine Beyond this gate.