Fold the creases, smooth the seams,
Each shirt a whisper of quiet dreams.
The laundry hums a gentle tune—
Earn your coin by afternoon.

Stack the dishes, brave and worn,
Served through meals from dusk to morn.
Soap and water, swirl and shine—
A penny earned for every line.

Dust may settle, crumbs may fall,
But every sweep rewrites it all.
The broom becomes a poet’s pen—
A tidy room, a coin again.

Scrub and sweep, and sort with cheer,
Each task a step, each coin sincere.
For pocket money, fair and true,
Is earned in little things you do.