ODE TO CLUTTER
Clutter on my counter,
Clutter on the floor,
Clutter in the cabinets,
But, wait, there’s even more . . .
A cracked fish bowl is in the sink
It houses one fish. (Dead, I think.)
The TV cart’s a rolling trash bin.
Carpet: French fries, crayons, mashed in.
Dirty laundry guards the couch.
Mold stalactites make me crouch.
Office crammed with paper piles.
Pantry jammed with Girl Scout files.
Books and socks play our pianner,
Fruit bowl houses black bananer.
Crawl space can no more be crawled in
Child’s bedroom should be walled-in.
Living room just died last week,
Vegetables have sprung a leek.
In-line skates sprawl on the stairs
Ceiling fan twirls underwears.
It’s almost like a living thing
It sweats in summer, grows in spring.
It spends the winters in a heap
On our recliner, fast asleep.
In fall it’s orange, black and green
It tricks-or-treats on Halloween.
Clutter on the counter
Clutter on the floor
Clutter in the cabinets
And coming through the door.
I really should de-clutter
(It’ll take me till December.)
But I’ll miss the darn stuff if it goes – -
It’s like a family member.
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© Mary Rachel Combrink, 2001
All rights reserved. May not be reprinted without the written consent of the author.