Messy

Messy, like paint spilled across a bright kitchen floor,
a tangle of thoughts where ideas scatter and roar.
Crumpled pages whisper, socks roam in lone pairs,
while tea‑stained mugs linger on sun‑warmed chairs.

The desk, a wild garden of paper and pins,
holds half‑finished stories and dusty old tins.
Chaos hums softly, a chorus of clutter,
yet in the disorder there’s comfort, a flutter.

For neatness can stiffen the soul’s easy flow,
but mess lets the spirit in bright colours glow.
So let the rooms breathe with a jumble of grace—
beauty lives best in a lovingly messy place.