"Your place is a mess!" so says my Mom
and others that come by my pad.
They say the lack of cleaner rooms
is the only problem they had.
I say the problem runs deeper still,
to a complete lack of understanding.
They do not see just why my rooms
are covered in stacks, piles, and strandings.
There's method to my untidiness,
a reason for my mess
that very few are privy to,
and those that know are blessed.
It's time that dictates all you see.
The clock keeps ticking on.
For Mary knew, and I do too;
it's here and then it's gone
I know just where to find my things,
each pen and pencil set;
each gas receipt and bill to pay;
each daily news gazette.
The more and more that I can keep
right out in my plain sight,
the less I have to organize;
and I waste less time each night.
I've heard that, next to godliness,
cleanliness is king.
I've always felt God wouldn't mind
My time used on other things.
For some a clean house is a blessing,
something we all should embrace.
If that's the case then next time
We'll hang out at your place.
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