The toys,
the blankets,
the pillows,
the crumbs,
the impulse buys,
the scrap
paper,
the feline ambergris,
the clutter.
I ache for a small patch of carpet
to lay upon and stretch sore legs.
Once again,
our house has succumbed to clutter,
and once again,
I’m left with a choice between Sisyphus
and Brave Sir Robin.