And everyone I chance to meet –
And be they young or old –
Informs me that they must compete
With much-unwelcome mould.

Some have it by the kitchen hatch
And others on the floor,
And there are those with quite a batch
Beside the bedroom door.

Yet everybody shares the hope
They’ll rid themselves of it
And pour on bleach or sugar soap
In some mad cleaning fit.

Yet mould’s just doing what it can
To pull off consciousness’s plan.

Photo by Avinash Kumar on Unsplash

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