Workout guilt - see poem below

Fujifilm X100S

 

Through the spare bedroom door, as I'd pass by,

My workout kit, neglected, forlorn, did lie,

Bereft of purpose, it silently cried,

A plea unspoken, but impossible to hide.

 

"Hey you," it whispered, with a scornful plea,

"Why leave us here, untouched, so carelessly?

Days go by, unused, we feel abused,

Longing for movement, our purpose confused."

 

"Get changed, climb on, and start peddling, you sloth,

Cease this idleness, regain your lost growth!"

Their words, a gentle nudge, pierced my soul,

A reminder of my guilt, taking its toll.

 

I hurry on and bid them farewell with a sigh,

Consumed by guilt, as I say my goodbye,

"It hurts my bum," I mutter, filled with dismay,

Perhaps another day, I guiltily say.

 

Done