He pictured flair, not raids on every store.
Jimmy paused and heard promise in the say,
He took that phrase as license, meant to overplay,
He returned hours later sparkling through the door.
Sequins clung to Jimmy like the air was smeared with glue.
Sebastian froze, dazzled and confused by the sight
Jimmy’s decor mocked every lamp with blinding might,
Each time Jimmy laughed, more sequins drifted blue.
Pride spilled from his grin in glittered excess.
Sebastian sighed, “You’re never getting all that back.”
Each step retraced the mess, still without a hint of slack,
As he declared, “I’m nothing more than moderation’s mess.”
He hummed while he cleaned since it was his chore.
Sebastian sighed, and smiled as he helped his old friend,
Each sweep just widened where the glitter chose to end,
Jimmy waved the broom and laughed, “See? Cleaning spreads it more.”