My thanks to Jack Prelutsky.
Packing! Oh, Packing!
I hate you, you stink.
I wish I could throw
All this stuff in the drink.
These terrible boxes
Are crowding my floor.
I’m getting so flustered
Each time through the door.
Packing! Oh, Packing!
You’re making me ill.
These thick cubes of cardboard
Are getting their fill.
The crumpling of paper,
The ripping of tape,
All makes me just want to
Run off and escape.
Packing! Oh, Packing!
How can there be more?
Somehow our apartment’s
A general store.
Tchotkes and treasures
And bobbins and toys,
All sorts of clutter
I cannot enjoy.
Packing! Oh, Packing!
What else can I say?
I wish I could ditch and
Get out of this fray.
I’m swimming in boxes,
These prisms abound.
Where once there was happiness
None can be found!
Packing! Oh, Packing!
When can I be done?
Is it time for a break
And a romp in the sun?
“Of course not,” says Packing,
“You’ll never be through.
“I cannot be sated,
“Let items accrue!”
Packing! Oh, Packing!
You mistress of harm.
I’m hurting my back
And have aches in my arms.
A burgeoning tower,
Oppressively brown,
Is building around me
And getting me down.
Packing! Oh, Packing!
I swear I’ll be free.
Sisyphus doesn’t have
Boulders for me.
Soon we’ll be done,
All our life hid away.
Then it’s time to unpack!
What a glorious day.