Piles of Clothes

Piles of clothes used to make me real furious
As I watched them slowly overtake my home
was so pissed seeing clean piles all over
Huge piles of dirt and sweat from afar
Belching aromas of midday basketball
Sneakers scattered with their cheesy smell
And these infamous dirty socks rolling it all.

Son and husband try to hide them from me
Smelly, unwanted piles of assorted sins
I couldn’t help but to see them with disgust
If left alone rapidly converting into rust
Commotions and explosions of resentment I had
But always I ended up forgiving the crimes
I couldn’t help but to live in the house of piles.

I was going nuts when the little one came to us
With all her baby type pink things, useful or not
story books, pacifiers, diapers, caps and hats
baby food, dolls and toys, lullabies music boxes
All sorts of pinky clothes I have to clean and fold
I pick up pink robes, pink pajamas, and pink gloves, but
Having a feel that baby piles are touched by God’s love.

She’s running our lives oblivious of norms and rules
Adding more and more pink piles to this house of chaos
At home all of us are drooling and acting like fools
Awaiting for the needs and wishes of our little jewel
Piles are now happy, triumphant and in communion
They aren’t in any rush for their shape-shifting evolution.

And now the piles feel empowered and untouchable
And I heard them talking about that they are indestructible:
We Have Taken Over! Disgust has Retreat!
We Piles Are Victorious! Our Life is a Treat!

 


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