Another Fine Mess
The colors were all tangled and wrapped with black tape.
They were bent and shoved in an unforgiving shape.
What was I to think or how to know which to cut?
The raw surface was rough like a dry roasted nut.
Oh where is Papa when I seek advice and wits?
Didn’t he teach to do for myself and not throw fits?
I calmed myself and looked again at mangled wires,
traced them to the original site of the fires.
Blue wire? Red wire? Or there’s black, yellow, orange, and green?
I hoped on hope I’d inherited the right gene.
At long last decided I cut one I thought best,
re-wrapped the others and replaced them in their nest.
A good afternoon’s work, now time to rest my tush.
But when I flipped the light switch my toilet did flush!
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