by
Mireille Bouchard, 1998
I stand in the doorway
looking in,
what I see before me,
makes my head spin.
There on the floor
right at my feet
crumpled in a lump
is my missing bedsheet.
Carefully I move it
and place it on my bed
what's left underneath
tells me the cat's begun to shed.
I take a step
something jabs my foot
it's my long lost piggy bank
I'd had nowhere to put.
Venturing further
I'm soon to find
can only be a hazard
and boggles my mind.
Papers, clothes,
stuffed animals, and books,
the mess on my floor
isn't as bad as it looks.
My dad says it's trashed
my mom says it's not clean
my sister says "God help me!"
I say they're all mean.
What's a little garbage
a little trash here and there
it's my room
why do they care?
Quick, someone help me
I've been sentenced to doom
My parents are making me
Clean my room!!!!!