Sunday, March 2, 2025

house's perspective Poetic Bloomings

 

My House’s Perspective

 

I know she prayed for me,

after years of living in trailers.

She and her husband

built me with their own hands

and many other hands as well.

 

They moved in on her son’s fourteenth birthday.

I didn’t get to know her seventeen-year-old daughter

very well, because she went off to college.

I got to know the son, though.  

She thought he’d never leave, at twenty-four.

 

I took a lot of abuse in my lifetime.

She and her husband took in two people

who couldn’t care for themselves.

The wheel chair wore ruts in my carpets.

The man didn’t always reach the bathroom in time.

 

Then her husband had two strokes.

The people had to leave. I had some reprieve.

But years of abuse left me down and depressed.

My carpets were worn and stained.

My paint had become cracked and drab.

 

But then they went on vacation.

I saw my opportunity.

It took just a few wiggles

and the worn washer hose burst.

Now, something had to be done.

 

They came home and saw me flooded.

Six rooms were ruined.

But I saw that she was hopeful

when she sent her husband

to live with her kids for three months.

 

She worked hard for a year

and hired others as well.

She scrubbed and painted.

She had new carpet installed.

Their friend even built a wonderful back porch.

 

Then the landscaper came. I look lovely

with my new paint, carpet, porch,

and fenced-in landscaped yard.

I’m calm, quiet and beautiful.

No more noise and abuse. I’m content.

 

But it would be nice if she cleaned me more often.

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