The Last Move
Every time that I move
I say it’s the last time
It’s a task that I dread
I am not in my prime
First, you must pack it
And then label each box
Make sure that your dishes
Aren’t mistaken for socks
The new home must be cleaned
Your old one! it will too
Where you get your energy
You really have no clue
Furniture is not getting lighter
Which my back can attest
When carrying down a stairs
I try to do my best
I know something will get lost
Something else will get broken
Get tired, tempers will flare
Regret things hastily spoken
Then comes putting it away
There’s not enough room
If you get upset, go outside
Seeking solace in your gloom
Then comes cleanup time
Piles of boxes, packing galore
Only thing comes to my mind
Is what I said before
I have moved my last time
My next move? In a box
It will be my eternal casket
One not labeled socks