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" Somebody Call A Plumber "
And that should tell the tale,
But peace and quiet here abouts
Has been shot quite to Hell.
It seems that I must always fix
Each solitary problem,
And never cry, nay, never sigh,
E'en though I'm in the doldrums.
The washroom leaks and water's off--
No need to cause a flood.
I can't escape the daily chores
by spitting my own blood.
I've taken meds and stayed abed
But get no consolation.
The truth is hystrionics fail.
I sit in desolation.
I'd like to take a well shaped ax
And chop this whole house down!
It's leaking in a closet now,
From pipes once underground.
I wonder if I wasn't here
Would life then be a bummer?
I hear it now, without a pause,
"Somebody call a plumber!"
Man, can I identify with this one! Hope you're feeling better by now - great poem.
kerry
http://kerrybrennan007.blogspot.ca