Discussions

Everyday I'm older moving much, much slower, and as I grow old in time, I think about this rhythm:  
 
I use to mop on hands and knees  
which now I cannot do  
'cause getting to the floor,  
is like sticking me to glue.  
 
I use to vacuum everyday  
to keep the carpets nice  
Now, if I get the chance,  
each month, I vacuum twice.  
 
If ever I would see some dust,  
it almost drove me mad  
I've learned now to cohabitate,  
and for this, I'm really glad.  
 
I changed the beds, I washed the clothes,  
my windows were so shiny,  
but now I'd rather e-mail,  
and sit upon my hinny.  
 
I've tried to figure why I've changed  
could it be my age,  
or is this just my change of life  
morphing to another stage?  
 
I just don't care about the dirt  
hiding in a deep, dark place.  
No one ever sees it  
so, to me, it's no disgrace.  
 
If things get somehow out of place,  
or the den is just a mess,  
I count it all as taking  
my perfectionistic test.  
 
I just don't want to bother  
with usual household chores.  
I want to go out with my friends,  
and never be a bore.  
 
Cleaning, dusting, mopping  
is such a waste of time  
especially as the days grow near  
when God might ring my chime.  
 
Life is just too short, I know,  
to waste a single minute.  
I can't be worried 'bout the mess,  
instead, I'm living in it!  
 
Tamara Hillman