Cleaning My Room

The reason that I’m mad today

is cause my mom won’t let me play

until my room is neat and clean.

That’s why I think my mom is mean.

And so I’m standing by my bed;

my piles of junk fill me with dread.

What to do with all this stuff

makes my decisions really tough.

What should stay and what should go?

That’s the problem — I don’t know!

You see, I simply don’t have space

for all the things to have a place.

Two hours later, you can see

my room is tidy as can be.

Cleaning’s hard and time sure drags.

What really helps is lots of bags.

Mom’s been shopping all the while

I’ve cleaned my room and now can smile.

I couldn’t decide what I should trash

so took those bags and hid my stash.

It’s down beneath the basement stairs,

far from all parental glares,

hidden in the crawl space gloom.

Now I can play — I’ve cleaned my room!

7 thoughts on “Cleaning My Room

  1. Interesting timing for this poem. I heard a faint beep-beep-beep this morning – an alarm of some sort. I followed it downstairs, to the room under the stairs (furnace room) and there had been a leak in the humidifier. The floor was very wet. After I sucked up the water with the carpet cleaning machine and hubby had fixed the leak – it became apparent that it was time for hubby to deal with all the stuff that had, over the years, been stashed under the stairs.

    Liked by 1 person

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