Inspired by and dedicated to @quinncy of The QC Report, my very quickly written opus to shedding season. Set to the tune of "Sound of Silence":
Hello Swiffer, my old friend
Will shedding season never end
Because a kitten softly creeping
Left its fur while I was sleeping
And the dander that was planted on my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of sweeping
In restless dreams I swiff'd alone
Narrow cracks upon the stone
'Neath the halo of the down
I tugged my mop along with a frown
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a fuzzy light
That split the night
And touched the sound of sweeping
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand dog hairs, maybe more
Hairs shedding without brushing
And molting without caring
Then wafting down, down, down upon my couch
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of sweeping
"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Molting like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent shedding fell
And echoed
In the wells of sweeping
And the dog hairs bowed and prayed
To the cat fur god they made
And the pelt flashed out its warning
In the lint that it was forming
And the sign said, "The fur of the prophets will cover your hallway walls
And bedroom halls"
And whispered in the sound of sweeping.
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9 comments:
(Slow, eighties teenage romantic-comedy style clapping)
Well done. Well done, indeed.
That's my gal, a writer in her own right! Quinn says it all, well played Em!!
Nice, Em. Now I have new words to learn.
Good Job!
*standing on chair clapping wildly*
Sheer perfection!! So glad Quinn pointed us over here to your blog!
Consort here. I am howling. Wheezing and sniffling. But howling, also. Bravissima!
Great Job! Glad Quinn sent me here!
Hilarious!
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