Here are my musings from awhile back. I'll never be a great poet, but it's fun to play with words.
My house reclines in suburban flat, sleek and slim
Wind eyes open wide, welcoming light pouring from moon and stars.
My house reclines beside concrete ribbons reaching out,
“Come on in.” Bouquets of manicured green and unexpected
messy pops of joyful blooms interrupting the sleek and slender house
resting in a bed of green.
My house opens wide to welcome
into boxes, trimmed in ranch white,
fireplace, stacked symmetry, gray and tall,
cool grays and coffees of Charlie Brown jazz, smooth…
Intense Elvis blues, and
red rocks the room, where the lindy hopped
and pizzas were delivered.
Where boys sang of far-off oceans, and girls
wanted their boyfriends back.
Where polished tile floors were twisted,
and suburban red oak hardwood, natural finish,
saw Mamie-pink paint turn into antique canning jar blue.
Where jazz, rock, Christian contemporary and Southern Gospel
Fill the air, with sounds of a Tennessee fiddle finishing off.
Where the churn my Daddy used, helping his Mama,
sits near a brown stone milkjug, and organic ginger ale.
Granny’s kitchen cabinet and Pappy’s table—he built it with pegs
For Mamie when they were married—sit with a 60’s fireplace,
on 90’s ceramic navy blue, under a candle-lit chandelier.
My house sits sleek, and mid-century modern, with
Antique secrets inside, old oak and cherry, sitting in boxy
Rooms made for Danish modern.
My baby quilts, my kids’ quilts, a quilted wedding gift,
Quilts made mostly by people who
People heaven now….
Time marches on,
And meets eternity
In my house.
Written by me, Tennie, a couple of years ago.
What are the dreams for your house?