Whose room this is I think I know,
Can’t blame the kids - it’s mine, to sew.
I can’t believe these piles of stuff
Are filling up my studio.
My little cat must think it queer
To see me get up off my rear
Between the fabric, thread and pins
The darkest evening now is here.
I ask the kids to make some tea,
I’ll be gone awhile you see.
I must focus, no distractions,
By crafty books in Japanese.
This mess is ugly, dense and deep.
But I have paper bits to sweep,
And piles to go before I sleep,
And piles to go before I sleep.
*my version of Robert Frost's
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
