by Kristen Eva
A little, off-the-cuff ditty about pesty junk.
|In my home there is a space|
Where bobbles and doo-dads find their place,
It’s not a drawer or a closet, though
Where the excess stuff will tend to go.
It’s the floor, or the couch
Or the kitchen counter
The bathroom, the porch,
And where ever I saunter.
They hide in a nook
Or sneak into a crack,
These stealthy space crooks
Are breaking my back.
And although I try
To clean up the mess,
They’re just too persistent
For my weary skills, I guess.
Perhaps tomorrow, I will try again
To find a home for my unwelcome friends,
I have no idea where they will go
But wherever it is, I hope they won’t show.