Cleaning House


It isn't Spring or Fall 

But, there comes a time, 

To clean it all.


Old cobwebs and dead roaches, 

Dust and dirt .

Could be left a little longer, 

What's the hurt?


The crud builds up, 

Over time. 

Clogging the synapses, 

Down the line.


And so she appears, 

With broom in hand. 

Sweeps out the cobwebs, 

And makes a stand. 


Clean as a whistle, 

And sparkling, like new. 

My vision has cleared, 

Can see clear through.


You can go ahead dirty, 

You can go ahead, dirty do.  

You go on ahead,

I'm brand new.


Copyright 1999 (c) Ronald W. Hull




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