Home

A poem to my beloved about our home

 “Home”

Counting roaches crawling past each coffee mug strewn about the kitchen,

I take a breath and take it in…

One, two… three.

Every tiny little cat hair fluttering through the air,

Dancing like pixie dust only to gather on the floor.

A creaking fridge,

An uneven floor,

All of these things that pile up.

It’s a nightmare and a dream for some,

To finally say that at least its mine,

And yours. And ours.

Watch as all the dust gets swept away,

Light some incense to freshen the air

and breathe…

One, two… three.

I pass the time by playing music,

Searching forever for our one song.

I glance at the clock and impatiently tap, tap, tap my foot to the beat.

It seems like all you do is work for us.

And I sit here,

And I ponder,

If you really know how much it means,

That while I sit here,

I think of you,

And everything you do for me.

It may be a s**t hole, scarcely big enough for all the creeping crawlies that we battle.

But it is ours.

Our very own,

Where we stay up all night and have tickle fights,

Where I shove you over for snoring in my ear.

And I love it.

Every last dirty inch of this place we call home.

And I love it,

Though not nearly as much as I do you.