Who’s messy? Who’s fussy?© (Poem)

Mummy says I’m messy.

I explain I’m not.

My things you’ll find, in the place

Exactly where they’re dropped!


Papers not in order

Are a puzzle to be solved,

And clothes piled, in a big heap

Is a system yet to evolve!


My bed is rarely ever made

In an ‘exhausting’ effort, to time save;

And dust gathers, on the sides

To stop it scattering, if it’s wiped!


My toys lie, on the ground

So there’s no need, to get them out,

And books stay open, on the page

So I won’t ever, lose my place!


But Mummy still, says I’m messy;

I’ve begun to think, she’s kind of fussy.

I’d written a letter, to tell her my mind…

Please tell me if it, you manage to find!


©Do not copy and edit, or reproduce without permission from the author (Abelia May) and full acknowledgement of the author (Abelia May) and website address


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