Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2016
Take off your shoes,
drop your bags,
I know it's been a long journey.
The coffee's almost ready,
and I put the kids to sleep.

I'll carry you up the stairs,
****** to hell, let the floorboards scream.
I'll undress you button by button,
and hold you close to me.

Don't worry about the money,
or what the neighbors think down the street.
Your pride is your pride.
Your shame is your shame.

I'll get a bath going 'till
the water is bubbling and warm.
I'll crush you some wine,
and light a few candles.

But, please baby, don't cry.
It's okay to be us.

When I lift you from the tub,
your body
The candles
The whole room

Baby, don't you worry
what the neighbors say.
Your pride is your pride.
Your shame is your shame.

I lay you down,
and your hair is wet and sweet.
You cry as much as you can,
then blubber away to sleep.

I walk to the window, and pull away the curtains.
Out in our backyard our wayward dog wanders in,
licking every single paw before he hops the monstrous hedgerow
and lands in our sweet-smelling rose garden.

The world outside
and the trouble within
he weathers it all,
as he limps back to his house,
licking his paws.

It's okay for you to be you,
me to be me,
and him to be him,
we all have our jobs to do.
Written by
   Keith Wilson and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems