Oh the Closets You’ll Clean and the Items You’ll Find-A Rollicking, Rhyming Post

I’m zealously cleaning,

It’s out of control,

The kids started camp

And now I’m on a roll.

In the younger one’s room,

The closet came first,

Five bags for donation

All ready to burst.

I’m purging, spelunking, and filling a basket,

So much to throw out that I’m blowing a gasket.

Train parts, and car wheels, there’s blink toys and bits,

Stuffed in a drawer and none of it fits.

Yo-yos, kazoos and buttons look rusty,

Webkinz, stuffed doggies and pillow pets are dusty.

I’m sneezing and coughing, my eyes are all red,

And that’s just the closet, not under the bed.

When I check under there, I find stray toys and notes;

Pencils, pajamas, a doo dad that floats.

A dirty old sock, a card game of sorts,

A piece to a puzzle, a red pair of shorts.

I know that his bedroom

Looks that of a hoarder,

It’s nothing compared to the room of my daughter!

Sometimes I’ll sigh, or just shoot her a glare,

Won’t tell her to clean it, no, that I don’t dare,

‘Cause, nagging and begging just isn’t the answer

And somewhere in there is a world cure for cancer.

Next comes my bathroom, just under the sink,

There’s lotion, old sunscreen and boy does it stink.

The elusive first aid cream we never could track,

There’s five tubes of that stuff shoved way in the back.

Drugs are expired and pills that were stashed,

A pregnancy test…yup that one gets trashed!

I’m sweaty and tired,

My muscles are sore.

I’m hungry and cranky,

Passed out on the floor.

I’m detesting this nesting,

But victory is sweet!

Thought I just passed my closet,

My work’s not complete.