Cleaning- my favourite


Cleaning- my favourite

By Tony DeLorger © 2011

I wish my home was mine, self-cleaning,

forever proud and always gleaming.

But alas it has its own agenda,

my will it seems too weak to render.

However I spend my time attending,

the never-ending tasks ascending,

to levels I just cannot maintain,

my house I fear is on cocaine.

Its need for clutter so speedily uttered,

the more I clean the more it musters.

My family and I are simply victims,

our tidiness blighted by evil systems.

I swear my house is conspiring to lose,

my penchant for clean a tiresome ruse.

I do not want to live in squalor,

but I’d like some order, remove the collar.

Instead I’m surrounded by endless strife,

dust and mess and complex life.

This conspiracy of filth that follows me ‘round,

I can only surrender; my grief profound.

In the end it is my house that wins,

my paltry attempts to clean a fizz.

I‘m a prisoner of my struggle for perfection,

but dirt I must accept, on reflection.

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