A House, A Home
Sometimes this house seems
too large
we drift to different corners
ignored for hours
we seldom cross paths
in silence, slip around back halls
Other times the walls
squeeze in, enclose us
in a corset-tight embrace
sparks scrape off jagged
edges of ourselves
igniting one another
in a fire of unkind words.
In winter's gloom,
sometimes one room
is all we need—
huddled close on an
overstuffed item of furniture.
We blend our warmth,
befriend each other
in comfort, in love
at home.
2 comments:
W0W! What progress!!
I love the poem too. I think in this home, you'll have lots of room to stay away from sparking encounters.
Well, probably, but there'll be plenty of room for guests.
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