4 walls and a floor.

A House of My Own


          Not a flat. Not an apartment in back. Not a man's house. Not a daddy's. A house all my own. With my porch and my pillow, my pretty cactochan. My books and my stories. My sneaker collection waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake a stick at. Nobody's garbage to pick up after.
         Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.

I read something like this but not this as I made some corrections of my own. I always dreamt of something like this only when I noticed that it could always be a house and not a home.





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