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About This Poem
Moving Time
Moving’s always fun
but one ought not to abuse it
there is always something lost to mourn
even though you never used it.
It’s time to sift the chaff,
get rid of dross and whey
but when you choose to pitch some crap
your hear your partner say:
“hey, where’d you put that such-and-such,
the one I wrapped with care?”
you’re thinking, “which one of the many such?
I’d pitch ‘em if I’d dare.”
‘Cause liftin’ chair and totin’ box
gets tiresome and fast.
You always hope that this move
will always be the last.
But no, there’s always greener grass
upon the other side,
some slightly better castle
one's partner has espied.
So clasp a hasp upon the lip
and prepare your back for sore
take a break, go search for boxes,
it’s moving time once more.
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