Persistently,
They congregate in the kitchen
Collections of little items
Brazen in the face of my tidying mind.
Disorderly.
None with a category
Nowhere for them to be ‘filed’
They exist in limbo
So I dump them in a drawer marked ‘Stuff’
At last. Named and shamed – and hidden.
Order is restored...
...for now.
Isn't it strange the items that end up in the stuff drawer? I wonder how much finds it's way to it's proper place.
When I clean mine, most of it ends right back in there; just a little more organized. I like your poem; it says it all.
Posted by: laveta segura | 02/10/2012 at 07:13 PM
Oh SO true, stuff - brazenly disorderly! Brilliant Roz.
Posted by: Weaversjournal.wordpress.com | 02/10/2012 at 07:19 PM