Poem on a Dirty House

Filthy House

 –

Stains drip down the oven door.

Bread crumbs scattered on the floor.

Webs of dust, all filled with bugs.

Stains cover living room rugs.

–

Who can live in filth like this?

With open eyes, cannot miss

Clutter and filth as I roam.

Disgusting, if not my home.

 –

When it’s your own dirt you find

Dirty is a state of mind.

Sure I need pick up a bit,

But since guests aren’t due, I’ll sit.

–                   – June Nash

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