This is a prompt from the Trifecta Challenge, to write between 33 and 333 words on the third definition of the word 'Quaint'.
The Craft Kit
Finally, the new kit's here
I've waited for the post all day.
The door is shut, the table's clear
The furniture is pushed away!
Okay, I put the screw in here
And tighten up the bracket there
And slot the tab into the rear
And push it in, hard as I dare.
I sand it here, and rub it there,
I add the paint and wax and buff,
The fumes are stuffing up the air,
I wonder if I've buffed enough.
The picture's blurred, is this quite right?
I'm sure I got the stencil straight.
Is this quite the shade of white?
And will it really hold the weight?
Oh no! No visitors today!
I shove the thing across the floor,
Push a chair to bar the way,
And rush towards the knocking door.
The mother of my husband's here.
She doesn't like the kitchen blind
She doesn't like the new veneer
She doesn't like the box I've lined.
She checks how full my cupboards are,
And is my laundry all inside,
She lifts the cushions, now ajar,
And spots the kit I've tried to hide.
She picks it up and turns it round
And touches the still-drying lace
An opportunity she's found
To put me firmly in my place.
She sneers with praise that's damning faint
"A painted footstool, oh how quaint!"
I haven't written poetry for nearly thirty years, but I couldn't help this one. I just 'heard' the prompt as the end of a rhyme. Please be kind.