Doormat

Two more papers,

And then we will grow old,

Just two more papers,

Laundry is not stressful.

Two more papers,

And then I’m gonna try and hold, myself

on the ground, and never again too old.

If you had told,

we are growing bold,

because life is becoming cold,

and watching me listening like it is a story untold.

Two more papers,

Feels like praying and pressing the forehead against burnt out charcoals,

but hang on, charcoals.

I am sorry, this poem is really taking its toll.

And I’ve said two more times,

out of modesty once,

with a lack of patience, thrice;

the drier doesn’t last for two more loads.

because that’s me trying to be cool fool, a cool fool..

would you have tripped the switch board and did the same clever thing twice?

That’d have been it, without needing to be told.