It was a house
It was a house; we made it a home. No curtains
To hide from the neighbors our petty sins. What,
The furniture is so simple:
A bed to make love, a table to draw,
A couch to lie on.
The glow of the lamps is warm in winter.
I stir the soup
And move my hips to whatever you're playing,
And you laugh at my bad jokes while
Sweeping the floor.
A vase full of flowers - those cheap pink ones -
makes the living room cozy, and the laundry
Awaits in its simple basket by the window
Until we have time to move on and let go.
Comments about this poem (It was a house by Isamar Carrillo )
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