Minding the House – A Poem

Minding the House
This house is all wrong.
The headboard on the bed is too big,
Both armchairs, once plump, are now turgid,
The chest of drawers too small by half.
The sideboard warping , the handles too large
(And there’s nothing but rubbish in the bottom drawer.)
The entranceway has a collapsing haunch.
The hips are slipping but the roofers late
Don’t even mention the cocktail cabinet,
Or the table legs which bow from strain.
The knee-hole desk’s got wet-rot again,
The footstool never was quite right
The tallboy that was our delight
Became too old and just gave way
This house is all wrong,
Yet I must love it all the same,
I can’t move out anyway


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