it doesn’t matter how you look at them…
I have a problem I’ll admit
with folded clothes,
They seem to drown me bit by bit
In stacks and rows,
I wash and dry them every day
But just can’t seem to put away
And my apparent slackness shows
with folded clothes…
I’m all or none, won’t half commit
There’s highs and lows,
But mostly there’s just folded shit
That’s how it goes,
The fact I rarely feel the urge
Means creased apparel’s now my scourge,
I’m near divorce as drama grows
with folded clothes …
same shit –
different poem …
A problem I’ll admit with folded clothes,
Can’t seem to follow through and put away,
I’m swamped by stacked apparel piled in rows,
That’s washed and hung and dried on any day.
My slackness is a billboard on display,
I’m all or none but rarely get the urge,
At any turn I’ll try and swim astray,
No fight against the creased apparel surge.
In leagues of grouped attire I shall submerge,
I’m drowning deep in problem I’ll admit,
Divorce assured with clothes my bane and scourge,
A cotton pickin’ sea of folded shit!
I know I’ll surely never get on top,
So back into computer chair I plop…
~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright P J Ross
01012012
Image sourced from Google Images