This is Home

This is His home,

It’s the little red house down the dirt road, where

the paint is chipped on the inside, and the windows

are slightly cracked at their edges on the outside.

Copper kettles, shakers, pots, and trinkets line the tops

of kitchen cabinets and the leaky basement. There

are little ceramic birds on the window sill that the

hummingbirds watch from the feeder.

He bought the house from a woman who used to keep cats,

and He still finds fur on his air force jacket.

She wouldn’t let Him tear down the collapsed hutch in the yard,

said it goes with the place, and adds to its beauty, so He

left it.

He cooks army chicken once a week, reads the paper

with side arms, then calls to say hello.

He knows I miss him, and I tell Him I love Him again.

Now, the copper’s collected dust,

And I tried to fix the windows,

But the old, flowery wallpaper in the kitchen is still peeling off the wall.

This is my home now, and I tell Him I love Him again.