You Can Make This Place Beautiful

Sat, 10/29/2016 - 17:55 -- taa1542

She said, stressing the good bones of the frame,

Steering me adeptly past the broken plaster,

The stove’s pilot light that wouldn’t keep a flame.

 

I liked the place, though feared it just the same.

The hot bath water should have come faster,

And the chime of the doorbell was quite lame.

 

Her smile was warm, and the moment I came

Into the bedroom a hole made by the caster

Nearly broke my ankle like a football game.

 

She heard me shriek and her look became

One of alarm at first, fearing disaster,

Then softened to something close to shame.

 

We’ll get them to fix that. No house should maim

Its dweller, just as no dog bites its master,

She winked. She clearly was a clever dame.

 

Are you sure about this? Can I get your name?

I had far more questions I meant to ask her.

Before I could, though, she was gone. Still, I blame

None for this house I’ll surely have to tame.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741