My house requires maintenance.
It truly vexing is.
The front door paint is peeling,
The flower beds need weeding,
The parched brown grass needs feeding,
The ice machine is leaking,
And rotted floorboards weeping –
Their damp somehow escaping
To stain the kitchen ceiling.
It all creates much feeling,
It truly vexing is.

And so, reluctantly, I rise
To effort ere it’s vain.
The left hip aches and creaks a bit,
An bunyans cause my teeth to grit.
Arthritis makes my fingers knit
And falter donning my outfit.
My creaking body must submit
To effort ere it’s vain.

And then, I realize in a flash
My anger is misplaced.
The house has carried me so far –
My earthly temple meets the bar.
So to complain would seem bizarre.
My anger is misplaced.