Dusty papers teeter along tables,
the sofa and a stool,
unsure when they will be used.
Some will stay for months,
as others travel the room,
make me feel like I am working
sometime soon.
They perch, about to fall
as I pirouette around them
all hung like lost lives over a cliff
waiting for some gust of wind.
Sonja Broderick
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clutter/
