Contest of Cleanliness
Passed down to me from my dear mother,
this cleaning bug even bit my brother.
I spent many hours doing house chores.
The need to clean, we could not ignore.
I always felt such satisfaction,
my friends all thought a strange reaction,
to suck up dust bunnies brought such joy.
A brand new mop was better than a toy.
When my brother and I felt the need to compete,
we would clean out our closets, win went to most neat.
And when I was a teen without a date,
I scrubbed bathroom tiles 'til the hour got late.
Dear fellow poets, I have a confession.
For a certain bald man, I had quite an obsession.
Many long nights, he and I danced,
the hum of the vacuum, our song of romance.
As I grew older, the neat freak contest ensued.
The need to be cleanest, a relentless pursuit.
The only person I competed with was me.
Now, with a messy four-year-old, I have set myself free.
This cleaning contest was only bringing me strife.
No longer competing, I'm now living my life.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, February 27, 2012
for the Contest contest ( Joe Flach)
Seventh Place
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012
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