Itinerantdaughter's Blog

His and hers

Would you move here with me, my sweet?  You can have the white house –– I’m small, and not greedy –– but whenever you like you can walk across the bridge to my blue house.  I’ll make you eggs and tea when you come visit; I’ll hug you and tell you over and over again that you are magnificent.  I’ll read you stories, and let you nap as long as you like.  If you let me, I’ll come visit you, too, and bring my cat and a picnic.  Things will be lovely at our house.

This entry was posted on January 24, 2012 at 4:53 am and is filed under Image Craving, Not a Poet, The sun has gone to bed.. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.