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Hurry up, she’d always say

Having all the time in the world

Speaking curtly to everyone

She watched, as they unfurled

Making sure the laundry was folded

And the beds, all properly made

Vacuuming carpets completely

Ne’er forgetting to dust the lampshade

She held them all accountable

They’d cower, at the look on her face

Making sure they were tormented

In this house on Grayson Place

Stories are still told about her

How nasty she was to her staff

Yet, no one really knew of her existence

She’s just a woman, in a photograph


©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0