a small
millennium house
much younger than it looks
a worn brick frame
skirted by a quaint, welcoming
red mulch garden
lace and fine gilt bone china
tucked away in
innumerable glass-fronted
cherry cabinets
bathed in the peachy florida light
streaming in through
clustered windows
framed by luscious,
flowing cloth drapery
pears soap,
soft, satin water,
and ceramic figurines
of angels and saints,
hares and doves
biblical verse, hung on the walls
and photos of relatives
i’ve never met
cushy, paisley-patterned sofas,
always something on the stove
flower arrangements on the mantle
aside a baldwin upright
no, this is not home.
but regardless, i know that here,
i will
always be welcome
a quick bus-ride write... not my best but i still think it’s something ;)