I’ve an urge to declutter my closet
and to purge every crevice from grime.
I’m lusting to dust every surface with thrust
and a gusto that challenges time.
I’m yearning to steam through the ironing
and to roar through a bundle of chores;
to speed through each deed till my conscience is freed
from the stigma of filth-crusted floors.
I’ve a passion to landscape my garden
and to fashion a fine flowerbed;
to toil with my hoe and to seed, weed and mow
then to cook a delectable spread.
But I’m trapped in a somnolent body
too listless to grab Vim and broom.
Should this lethargy pass, I shall leap off my arse
and I’ll scrub out each festering room!
