This Old House
In this house, I am swimming
in a mud puddle, somedays
with my arms tight around you
We backstroke
In my house there is dust
settled overtop the daily cares
swept aside in conversations
as we laugh with grit
In my house, old is being replaced
new life is felt with each layer
hammered, drilled, cut, painted over
awakening new with each day
In my house, I dreamed this
planned and prayed for years thus
and when the hand was given
I reached boldly forward....
Copyright © Jeanne Mcgee | Year Posted 2022
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