Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Chaocity

Every day a small tornado
Whips about the house
Flings around our mouse
Messes stuff so up and all akimbo.
Blankets not on beds,
Milk-drenched, spitty rags, 
Pampered Chef mags,
Mugs, rugs, Pugs and hugs,

     It's all jumbled.

I want a magic wand
To lay down smack,
To take the order back,
To ward off any flack.

     But it's all jumbled.

Every day a small tornado
Laughs at my lack
Of magic wand smack.

3 comments:

John said...

Having a lack of Magic Wand smack is certainly a problem when confronted by small tornados.

Good luck, if it is any consolation at least you know where it is when its spinning. I have found it is the time between storms that is actually the most worrisome. JgT

Marvin said...

lovely. I think you are becoming my favorite living poet.

W.B. Picklesworth said...

Merci buckets. :)