PAD 22

Two Jobs

For one,
I dress down.
Comfort is required
before unsheathing pen
to strip flesh from bone
and transform it.
My voice goes raw.
I howl,
fanning
this little life
into an explosion.
Thus am I nourished,
soul fed.

For the other,
I polish and adorn,
confine myself among
regal robes.
I am the guardian of
lace and pearls.
Crystals and satin
flow through my fingers.
I speak with
the cultured voice
of hope observed.
The mistress of
evolving ritual,
I am drained.
Thus I earn my daily bread.

Today's prompt was work.