DUST BUNNIES
Everywhere in the house I go
Dust coats all with jackets gray
Like ball gown gloves it coats the books
Motes cavort in sunbeams fey
It blankets the shelves in silent calm
And rolls about beneath the bed
I turn around from dusting all
To find more of the dust I dread.
It blankets the shelves in silent calm
And rolls about beneath the bed
I turn around from dusting all
To find more of the dust I dread.
Dusting is clearly a thankless job
I turn around and it's back again
Will this aggravation end?
Wiping wiping, such a pain
That's how I used to think of dust
It got into my very head
So now I let it lie in peace
For dust will be there when I'm dead
For dust will be there when I'm dead
©
2016 by H. Linn Murphy
"For dust will be there when I'm dead". LOL
ReplyDeleteLove this. Thank you!
I love your poem. I hate dust too. I wish someone could invent a permanent solution to those dust bunnies.
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