I painted your walls green,
and the thin trim yellow.
Certainly, It was an ugly house,
Because every window hung out of place,
While the chimney leaped from the roof.
The porch, don’t neglect to mention the porch,
That habitually stuck its tongue out at the neighbors.
I would preferred to park in their driveway,
Or down the street at another corner.
I often asked myself while opening the front door,
“Why would anyone live in such an awful house?”
I think if you would quit smiling at me as I entered,
I could move away, perhaps not.
Maybe, it is not such a bad house after all
I'm a fair weather writer, so I only write when I feel like it and might go long periods of time before I get the urge. I love writing poetry and reading good poetry, mostly because I didn't have the time in the past to write anything else. Since I have retired, I jumped into serious writing and have written three novels, a bunch of short stories and a few poems here and there. My WIP is a book of short stories and a sequel to one of my current novels. I expect that will take me a year to finish. I don't like to rush my writing.