Lord Send Me Daggers

Lord send me daggers,
          Brakeless Trucks,
          Diseases,
          Poison trees,
          Or Madness,
          Burglary.
An Elf-touched life:
          I'll die to save my children,
Or to vindicate my wife,
          Or better yet,
To give an enemy their life,
I'll do it, if you take me by surprise.

It isn't arrogance or pride
That makes me fear the dishes
          Or an unswept floor,
          A day behind a desk,
          A soap-cake,
          Ballpoint pens,
          Or small mistakes
It's more a gnaw
          That chews at me with dreary teeth
A dullish saw
          Of tidied corners, fixed computers,
And my own lethargic awe
Of all the pretty things I prize.

It's not ennui -
I love these little things!
          The kissing of a cheek
          Or skill at rubbing feet
          Or eating butterscotch
          Or washing cabinet-fronts
My life inside a drawer
          of dishtowels, neatly stacked,
It's just - what if a tidy floor,
          A well-packed lunch,
          A tidy stitch,
          A buttonhole,
Is all I am, and nothing more?

Image by sniffles