A lamp, a couch, a freshly painted chair.
Flowers in a vase, perfectly matched, just sitting there.
Fireplace centered, paintings on the wall.
Matching floor aglow, a rug just down the hall.
A lease for one. No choice. It's done.
A house, not home. A home for none.
No home.
And yet
The birds outside
And books
And jazz.
For aren't these home? These this, these that.
A home for one. For one and cat.
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©Margie Culbertson
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