Oh no not another stain on my carpet so red, <br />its times like these I wish I was dead. <br />When I was new I was laid out like a Queen, but <br />now I am ashamed to be seen. <br />I was born a carpet, the rich colour of gold but the <br />state of me now I look fifty years old. <br />Dinner partys, Grand Children, pets and wine all of <br />them have marked their place in time. Then what <br />makes it worse I get scrubbed with a spray, <br />but trufully that's just rubbing it in, not taking it away. <br />The foot marks by the door get scrubbed every week <br />but I wish the mistress would realise that my fibres are <br />weak. <br />The rug in the centre serves no purpose at all, only to <br />hide a wine stain that goes wall to wall. <br />When visitors come round it's the same old routeen a <br />good scrub with the shampoo, just to look clean. <br />A steam clean would be better than a soapy shampoo <br />at least it would prevent me from getting carpet flu. <br />Sneezing and coughing from Shake and Vac with tiny <br />particals getting lodged in my back. <br />I am a sad old carpet no one cares about me not even <br />the cat when she squats for a wee. Same old place being <br />scrubbed to death it's a wonder the mistress is not out <br />of breath. <br />I know she meens well this mistress of mine if only she <br />would stop spilling her wine. <br />Over the years I have changed colour from gold to red, <br />and that's the end of my tale, there's no more to be said.<br /><br />sylvia spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-carpet-tale/
