aarwen Poetry

A Home Is…

Home Poetry

That wall against which I rest my tired head

The last step sitting on which I stare blankly ahead

I see my dog curled for hours in his happy spot

From where he barks at neighbours no matter what

The soothing hum of gently falling rain

Sleepy at midnights I hear it time and again

All around is wild green grass I never did mow

I’ll throw away those sunflower seeds I never could sow

The kitchen was forever mine alone

I shared it with my dog for his meaty bone

Dirty dishes piled high in the large metal sink

A new carpet smudged with traces of blue ink

This dark room with posters on the wall

How I desperately wish I could take them all

Our special place where we can laugh or even cry

A wagging tail a cheery bark to always welcome us by

That whiff of comfort in the air as we finally walk inside

Home is where I sit however long I like by your side

An easel with a pretty painting half done

Canvas of memories of an eternity full of fun

Not once did I dust my neatly lined up books

Who does really care how a house looks

A home is a house and so much more

So what if it has a broken door and messy muddy floors

 

Some things you can not change.. some things you want never to change..

AARWEN’S INDEX

 

 

 



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2 Comments

  • Reply
    Ruchi
    March 19, 2017 at 4:06 pm

    Beautifully written. A place to be yourself. A refuge even when the walls seem to close in around you.

    • Reply
      rhea sinha
      March 21, 2017 at 12:15 am

      Thank you Ruchi. So nice to continue seeing you here! Refuge is such a nice word you use. Yes, sometimes all the household chores get too much, but through it all there is that safe feeling of belonging somewhere that is home.

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