Maybe I am selfish,
another week of the this has made me mad,
I have flowers to transplant, land that needs tiled,
a shed in need of a new coat of paint.
I have reached the end of my rope,
the house needs cleaned, the windows need washed,
I need to get out of this house.
Maybe I am selfish,
but I think this is the longest winter to ever pass.
.
Categories: poem, writing Tags: spring, winter