Armed only with grit and determination
(and a brush, rubber gloves and a tonic for mold eradication)
Fair maiden set forth one morning in May
to for once end this harbinger of death and decay.
Pandora (the music, not the lady of myth)
Heralded maiden’s approach as she addressed the green filth.
“Begone!” she cried and the mold did not budge.
“I gave you good warning, now perish you sludge!”
Fair maid sprayed and scrubbed, her back bent at odd angles
She swept sweat from her eyes and made her old arms jangle.
After hours of labor she rose from tired knees
Expecting to see a sight which surely would please.
Instead a difference she could not discern
“Dammit,” she muttered. “Let Studly have a turn.”
One small section of our wall taken before and after. I guess I made a bit of a difference.
Is it too early for a glass of wine?