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Steve Page Mar 2020
Warmer or colder - that don't matter
Get your hands wet with clean running water

Now apply soap - liquid or tablet
Lather it up, both the front and the back

Between all the fingers, don't forget thumbs
Under the nails, there there be bugs

Carry on scrubbing, at least 20 seconds
Sing happy birthday, twice for good measure

Now for the rinse, with clean, running water
And once you have dried, you're a true virus fighter.
Cant avoid the posters in public toilets. We can all do this at least.
Mrs Anybody Feb 2020
small raindrops fell
smelling fresh and pure
as they washed away
the worlds sins
also check out my other poems!  :)
abby Jun 2019
sometimes I wish I could wipe the identity off of my face
throw away the picture and buy a new frame
but instead I wash my face only to reveal a more concentrated version of me
I used to know who I was
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2019
Opposite my apartment is a masjid and adjacent  to it is a hospital,
My home is where I live my life,
The hospital is where due to my sickness I pay and wash my sins,
The masjid is where I go to repent and collect good deeds needed for my hereafter.
23/4/2019
Masjid (mosque)
annh Apr 2019
I wash my hands,
And wring them dry,
Watching my worries,
Disappear with the grey water,
Down the plughole of life.
‘You can’t wring your hands and roll up your sleeves at the same time.’
- Patricia Schroeder
Luna Jay Mar 2019
My rhymes, they chime.
The truth between the lines.
My time, short lived.
Inside of my mind;
I’m grime.
I want my scrubbing bubbles-
My troubles always double when you
Try to wash me away.
And I, will always stay.
An ancient crime of whine
I shall present to you.
But what would it matter?
You always play the victim of abuse,
And misuse.
You dilute the minute
Necessities you think you don’t need.
But when they’re gone,
You find it hard to breathe.
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