My Dream Home
My dream home, is far from being a perfect place
the garden is full of weeds and it has no grace
Curb appeal in fact it’s sorely lacking
Still there’s something here extremely attracting.
Yes it is true the porch paint is peeling
above cobwebs cling to a rosette on the ceiling
Still my mind it can only see perfection
because to this place I feel a connection
Overgrown ferns poke up through the floor
as I navigate my way to the front door
The hinges moan I can hear them speak
Like my old bones they groan and they creak
Audible whispers, I strain to hear what is said
“Don’t you desire more, than a roof over your head?
Climb my staircase, please make me brand new
I’ll be more than a building I’ll be perfect for you.”
I gaze through a broken window down to the street
There are stories to be written and people to meet
So yes this old house, I’ll make her my home
She wasn’t meant to be neglected and left all alone.
Inspired by Constance La France and written for her Decaying House Poetry Contest. July 15, 2020
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2020
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