Domesticated? Me?

Domesticated? Me?
Go ask the cupboard full of brushes,
Potions, Gels, assorted
Evidence of good intentions.
Never was domestic goddess,
Flitting, blitzing, glitzing,
Waving wand of pristine rightness,
No perfect make up glamour puss.
Pay homage to the women who
Established self esteem upon
Crisp lines of pure white nappies,
Floating freshly on the gentle wind.
But they were bygone days of wifedom,
I, woman of now, no icon,
Sit, procrastinate a little,
Perhaps enjoy another coffee,
What’s the rush, I sigh.

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