I settle me down
Just to relax
But then damn and blast
There's a hole in my slacks.
My favorite sweater
Is getting old
It's hard to stay warm
Because of the holes.
The mats on the table
Were lovely and new
Stains appeared so it's off
To the garbage with you.
I'm patching and fixing
All over the place
I want to be perfect
It's some kind of race
It's worse with the glasses on
Awful to witness
The dust tries to fly
And it's making me witless
Oh for the day
When my eyesight is going
Then it all can take place
With me never knowing.
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Author:
Lorna (
Offline) - Published: January 22nd, 2018 04:32
- Comment from author about the poem: I don't wear "slacks" by the way - but it rhymed. Jeans and leggings for me.
- Category: Humor
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: Aislinn Wilson, Adam Shirley
Offline)
Comments3
Good write sr.
Thanks Orchidee! Good morning!
Some sort of OCD 'psychosis'?
Just routine trying to keep the house clean! I think most women have it!
Always look on the blind side of life - love it sr.
Thank you Michael!
Great description
Thank you Aislinn!
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