My sunlit screen’s all obscured by bright dust

Like blinding snowflakes frozen in mid-fall

The sun moves westwards as it always must

And now I’m finding that I can see all

As shadows mount the white screen and white wall

Goodbye sun, you’re no friend to thought process

You bring too much reality; you crawl

Into each dirty corner, dark recess

Training a spotlight on each filthy mess

Spilt food that’s hardened into yellow crust

In kitchen. Look at the floor in the hall

Such biodiversity. I’m impressed

Victorian-style cleaning maids, please just

Line up outside until you hear me call