As silver paint drips from my stressed paint brush
I stand back to admire a collection ofstormy clouds
Each pother is decorated with a neat shiny edge
A border that tells me, even dark days contain some light
A royal appointed judge in red robes
Sits proud, bathed in gloss upona cover
I leaf the thick novel, packed tight with many words
Yet I shall not pass verdict, I know not this book
I am no plumber, but with this wrench of determination
I hope to prize this porcelain sink from that stubborn wall
Everything elsefrom this baron kitchen is packed
While I may allow defeat, those chrome taps are coming with me
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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