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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I love the house that I live in, and I don't ever want to move.

Submitted: September 30, 2015

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Submitted: September 30, 2015

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The dog fur

lined on the couch

and visible on black clothes.

The comfy seats

that I sit on

sleep on

dream on.

The smell of the kitchen

of pumpkin spice cooking

lemons being squeezed

chocolate being melted

and cookies fresh out of the oven.

Layer of dust

on Angelo the houseplant.

The clicking of dog paws

as they skitter closer

to the sound of the opening door.

The pink clouds of the sunset

peeking through the window.

Paintings framed above couches

a piece of family history

hanging upon the wall.

The fraying blanket

warming the cold toes

covering the head

and comforting the restless sleeper.

The bookshelves removed

in the garage

that smells like old paint

and the door creaks when it's opened.

The pillows lining the bed

black and white comforter

lazily drooping off the side.

China cabinet

shining silver

mottled mirrors

reflecting our life

and the light of the room.

Low table dark brown

that the dogs take shelter under

the gray newspaper

a smiling picture with words

underneath scratched plastic.

The flick of the lightswitch

that signals it's bedtime.

The trumpet blaring

beckoning the howls of Penny

and the slamming doors of the escaping sister.

All these things I wake up and fall asleep to

all these things in my home.


© Copyright 2018 Evangelina Samuell. All rights reserved.

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