Mischievous little dust balls,
These ‘devils’ gather under the bed,
In your closet and are trapped in the threads
Of your carpet, escaping your view.
You run your Oreck or Hoover
To suck up all of them in the sunshine,
But that’s when you hear the doorbell chime
And know ‘mother-in-law’ has arrived.
It’s time for her unwarranted inspection
As she places her suitcase on the floor,
Puts on white gloves while still at your door,
As a slight evil grin crosses her face.
She moves her finger along the window sill
While you turn green at the gills.
Then turns, smiles at you—her daughter-in-law--
As she walks towards you for a hug
Not noticing the grodes still in the rug.
You welcome her in silence, having passed the test.
Wanting to ask when she’s leaving again
You instead offer her a tonic with gin
And cross fingers the dust balls hide during her stay.
 

© 2007 George E Thompson