Take one house, dilapidated,
A house that surely must have waited
For Pamela and 'that certain touch'!
I never dreamed she'd do so much
With what was run-down, left to rot,
And, let's admit it, gone to pot.
Rather dreary, rather brown,
In an elderly part of town,
It was a challenge, it was tiring,
But she found the toil inspiring.
Memorabilia, lots of white,
Art-works, each one a delight,
A whiff of the Victorian age,
Rather like a setting on a stage.......
A work of art, exactly right.
*
I so enjoyed it all last night.
A kitchen for one.
A tasty corner.
Comfort.
Reflection.
Sweet dreams.
On the way out.
*
------------------------------------------------------------------
Brenda Bryant
CONTEMPLATION
Captured in a reverie,
With no need of company.
Outside the traffic, fro-ing, to-ing.
Inside here, a private viewing.
*
1 comment:
I love the house, Brenda. I could see myself living there but, like the gentleman illustrating your second poem, I'd enjoy it best if living alone.
K
Post a Comment