A friend of mine on Facebook posted today about how legos are automatic mess makers and it just hit very close to home. I’ve been battling legos for a long time. Today it made its way out as a poem.
Each lego is a plastic curse.
They are under the bed and then in my purse.
They line the halls and obstruct the doors.
They gather in piles on multiple floors.
They hide in cracks and crevices
and then they grow legs like tortoises.
They make their way into every room.
They get caught in the vacuum and swept by the broom.
No matter what, they never stay put
and are especially evil when under your foot.
written just now