I often think about the domestic
remember the feeling of someone at home
and have been the someone at home
when on leave from work
the way the house smells
the way it feels to come home
a pot of soup bubbling on the stove
warm yellow light from outside
one house can seem so large
all those corners gathering dust
the washing on the line
someone might be upstairs
the cat curled up in a ball
heaters on especially on freezing days
cups of tea and home made biscuits
tins especially for that purpose
that feeling of home and work
all curled up and cozy together
gumboots at the back door
snug office chair at the computer
big brown autumn leaves in piles that
crunch
a curl of smoke from the neighbour’s
chimney
the outside light on filtering through the
trees
and now when the split life isn’t so double
all patted down and next to a cushion
so lovely... 'the split life isn't so double/all patted down'
ReplyDeletewonderful!
ReplyDeletehome is what you have in reserve
ReplyDeleteand home can shrink from presence
ReplyDeletewhen you feel a prisoner of it
no matter how many rooms in the palace
the one with many mansions
was still the father's house
ooh, that's another take on it
DeleteI love this
ReplyDeleteah, comfy mumfy - a poem to sink into.
ReplyDeleteYes I love it too.
ReplyDeleteWonderful, Anna!
ReplyDelete