The perfect home
sighs at night
weary from the day
I can hear mine groaning
remembering the mud-tracked feet
dozens of children finding their way
past the front door
into light-filled rooms
leaving only specks of dirt and traces of laughter in the walls
The perfect home
is one that simply isn’t perfect at all
because it knows
perfection is the enemy
The perfect home
asks you, and only you, to like it
in opposition to
your ego
just begging for likes
It is steadfast in its ability to provide calm
A home
holds space for you to create
even when
there’s dishes to be done
and a coffee stain on the floor
You can and you must
make space for your mind to wander
away from the ordinary
past the routine of shoulds
into the deep where clarity lies
On your worst days it holds you
Yet, on others, it opens up its doors for love
Making space for your best and worst selves to just be
Mine gently pushes me outside
to wander through purple and yellow
when I’m blue
It welcomes me back in
when I’ve remembered to breathe in the breezes
My house
above all
is finally mine
I chose it whole heartedly
by signing on the dotted line
She’s imperfect, but beautiful
like someone else I know