“Monkey Chores” [poetry]

Sweeping floor is one of my favourite things
Sound of swishing of bristles on embedded rings
The sunshine in windows and sun lit halls
That make dust in air seem like fairy dust balls

The cheery sound voices of children outside
The good thing or maybe not so, when nursery’s in sight
Then again – at least it’s some sort of “action”
That lets me dwindle in thoughts for a fraction

Some owners decide to move houses
Such graceful, classy ladies in ironed blouses
Swaying their hair as they walk
Seems like the type who never talk

Have to say that these halls sometimes seem lonely
Like pause in between piano waltz folly
And when it’s raining it turns grey inside
That’s when I start dusting laps, that reside

Each day the halls echo whispers
That come from stairs where smoke makes blisters
The common area for gents or ladies with cigarettes
Who share the stories of many joys and regrets

I love the moments of late at night into early morning
Some couples or friends enjoy drinks in mourning
When they sometimes remember the legends of these halls
Of fallen victims to dreadful kill calls

I love sweeping floor in these hallways
There’s many things that a human says
And endless things stay behind closed doors
One of those are post mortem my monkey chores


Art by Jonathan Holloway on ArtStation

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