My house is not shiny and new ,
it doesn’t have an extension
or an open plan milieu .
My house is tatty and old ,
it looks nice in the dark with fairy lights abound,
but in the cold light of day , its secrets are exposed.
Its been loved and used but is in need of care.
I often look longingly at others squeaky units ,
plush floors, cabinets that harbour secret passages .
I often feel envy at the cash that has been paid.
But i also remind myself that I have a home ,
not a shack ,
A roof that doesn’t leak rain
A door that does sustain.
A machine that washes my clothes and dishes ,
there are some in the world who are having these wishes.
I do try to be thankful for what I have got ,
to not yearn for more.
I am after all but a spirit in clothes of flesh.
My house reflects my physical home.
A bit worn out , prone to neglect.
Forgotten , put last. Bit by bit I need to repair.
To look at just one part that can be spared.
To not see the whole and sigh . .
To stop procrastinating ! The end is not nigh .
