PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There's a stranger in my house

A woman advanced in years

She peeks at me from mirrors

When I move she disappears

Who is this dried up prune

And when did she move in

Her hair is mousey gray

Seems to be quite thin

Skin pale and wrinkled

Doesn't look too thick

Maybe the poor old dear

Just wants to play a trick

Her lips are always smiling

There's a twinkle in her eye

She really is quite pleasant

And is as quiet as a mouse

I will soon grow accustomed

To having her in the house