For Day 8, an ode to my house.
MY SECOND SKIN
My house bathed in moonlight, rests,
silent and welcoming,
and I breathe love into its spaces.
It seems a reflection of me,
the way the furniture is arranged,
the chairs facing each other.
Do they talk among themselves, I wonder,
in the stillness of the night,
picking up bits of broken-off conversation?
Does the warm air twirling up the stairs,
or the slippers, discarded, under the bed,
remind it of us, when we are away.
Do the walls rejoice with the tinkle of laughter,
does the carpet hoard shards
of my shattered dreams.
Does it feel protective, caring,
shielding us from wind and rain,
silent witness to silent pain.
Content, replete, joyous,
I settle into its calm stillness,
and it wraps itself around me.