A poem of decoration


Sometimes you do something, and it makes you want to write about it. Sometimes the words dance around your head, forming a poem, or a series of paragraphs. That was one of those moments. I re-decorated my living room over a weekend, and the words were right there, waiting to be put on paper. At first it seemed stupid to send this into the universe, but it made me smile every time I read it, and that, thankfully, reminded me of this crazy day of decoration. I hope it makes you smile too.

She wants to move the furniture,

One Sunday afternoon.

It is always fun to decorate,

But first, she empties the room.

The room seems dull, so she gets paint,

Decides to save on a square.

Great and magnificent, blackboard,

Perhaps she will paint a pair?

Paint is drying, the furniture is outdoors,

The carpet that it reports.

This is old, it is small, but has to do,

Now for the fun of getting started.

She pushes the sofa through the room,

Moves the mat at an angle.

Amused, she decides to suck the floor,

After finding a fork and a bracelet.

Thought that she was cautious, but not enough,

Look at the striped wood floor.

No need to repair it, just cover it,

Moving the carpet a little more.

The sofa sits on the carpet, looking great,

She sits on a chair next to her.

The chair is old, the fabric worn,

And now she went straight through it!

She takes it and throws it,

With a force that she never knew.

Another chair is quickly found,

Lucky, she is not bad.

Another chair, another side,

The sofa is moved again.

She stops, and goes up a little more,

a little more, then more!

Decides to have a cup of tea,

To think of many things.

Look at the disorder, and the dreams of poems,

Cabbages and kings.

Up she gets, and washes her cup,

Determined to finish the room.

She checks the paint, and sees that it is dry,

He sweeps the ground with a broom.

Brings in a shelf, some lamps and a painting.

Pillows, photographs, porcelain and tables.

Arranges flowers and washes the soil,

Straighten the curtains, and open the door.

In the afternoon, she smiled at the end.

His house is now different, but not a penny has passed …..


Source by Wendy E. Wrzos

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