My room keeps getting messy
No matter how much I tidy it,
And I tidy every day.
How can that be?
I’m a tidy person.
I think I must of gone mad.
And the pile of clothes—
The pile of clothes that keeps getting bigger,
That I can’t get to the bottom of
No matter how much I rummage.
I turned every single light on,
To see more clearly.
I take long look and just observe.
And then I knew what to do,
I had seen the light.
I filled my room with plants:
Spring tulips, white with pink crests,
A sprouting Aloe,
And a Kalanchoe from the supermarket
That had been on the shelf for weeks,
And tended its leaves,
Trimming away the ones that were dying
To make room,
For the leaves beneath that were still shiny,
For the new buds yet to open and bloom.
My room still looks messy
But it is better,
The plants make it more beautiful.
And the mess—
The mess doesn’t bother me so much.
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