House

This a house of unused tools Bought for a purpose and then Filed in a rusty toolbox To be never used again For with the next project I’d frantically search around I knew where I’d left them But they never could be found This is house of bodged jobs not that i didn’t have the will but some how my enthusuiasm didn’t compensate for lack of skill and i huffed and i puffed did the best i could but somehow it all looked somewhat less than good This is a house of frustrations because in the end The one that I loved Became my best friend And all passion just went No romance at all So now we sit and look at Our badly painted walls In this house of suppressed passions A house of a moody man Testosterone driven but Just doing what he can To hide the nagging need That is always always there For the act of love And for tender loving care