ok it's still National Poetry Month (today is the last day!) So here is my:

Ode to Therapy

Twas the night before T
and all around the house
the client was pacing
(certainly not like a mouse!)

Her notebook was ready
with dreams all recorded
and thoughts of the meanings
(or so she purported)

But sleep was elusive
it just wouldn't claim her
so up again, up again
(as each verse grows lamer)

Dishes and dirty clothes?
Those helped for awhile
Her house is now gleaming
But she has not one smile.

And she wishes for clutter
She can SEE instead of feel
"It's better to look good..."
is how she learned to deal.

But nice on the outside eventually fades
and you have to find something behind the facade.