I am a house.
I am a small house that is untraditional in looks,
you pass by it on your bike and say
“huh, never would have thought of that.”
I am bright, full of light, curtains drawn open,
allowing you to peek in.

There is work that needs to be done for this house.
The storm door is broken, open to any amount of rain
to berate the entrance,
to cause more ache
the door hinges cry out
as someone slips back into the house.,
you’re going to hurt me again,
why do you bother to even visit?

This house has wallpaper that needs to be redone,
peeling at the edges from time,
the garden needs to be weeded, but that has nothing to do
with the house, but look at it anyway,
so another day can pass where the house can feel abandoned,

No, I am not a poet,
was I ever?
I am house, not a home.
© Kate M. Sine