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:
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
lovely. I think you are becoming my favorite living poet.
Merci buckets. :)
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