Just a poem

Just something I wrote some time ago...

My House

Does Pandemonium look like my house
144 years of laughter and tears
Tucked away under clapboard and brick
Picket fence that keeps us in
Picket fence that keeps little out

Does Pandemonium boast english boxwoods
Nestled deep in rows of geranium
Pineapple perched upon threshold “Welcome weary traveler, rest your tired feet, you are home”
When a door closes
A window of opportunity... stays shut

Does Pandemonium admonish or admire
What we bring to the inside
Are gentle words spoken in soft tones possible here?
Where salty tears wash clean the sour of regret
And the eerie sound of men crying
Is like Gabriel’s trumpet to my ears

Elbow deep in dirty dishes and laundry up to my knees
Babies crying louder than lapping flames
All you bring home is everything I wish you would leave behind

Under plaster
Under paint
Under the roof that feels like it is falling in over my head
I crawl into bed
Turn the lights off I hope you are beside me
I hope you whisper in my ear It feels like heaven here