From all my houses
One is most forgettable
The natural defense mechanism
Of my toiled mind
Doing its job perhaps
A tad too well so that
I completely forgot my
Safe haven, located
Under the house which
Jutted out, so ugly, from the
Mountain side, so that
A small triangle, filled
With Ivy,  was my home
In the period
Of my life that is
That house, but with
The good memories
Of golden sunshine through
Lush green leaves falling upon
Discarded sandals and
A familiar English classic
Come the lonely hours -
The occasional hidden
Poison Ivy among its
Friendly peers hurting
Much less than
The sting of unwantedness.