(Or should that be "Pencils Down"?)
Yes, I know this is late. Even my own muse is never on time, I'm afraid. =(
But thanks to the wonders of technology, we can backdate posts so that those which were written on a Thursday will show up under Wednesday's date, anyway. It's so blatantly Orwellian that I should shun it . . . but of course I don't! =P
Word -- Spaghetti
Question -- Do houses need love?
Can't you hear the yard asking us for a garden--
For flowers and herbs and some decorative rocks?
The front door has joined in, demanding a doorbell
To spare it the rapping and tapping and knocks.
And I'm certain the front hall dreams of a coat rack
Topped off with a hat never meant to be worn,
And the library thinks it should have the old stereo
So the quiet old bookshelves don't feel so forlorn.
The kitchen chimes in for bread always rising;
To give it's oven a reason for living, you see.
And what is a pantry without any pasta?
"Please stockpile spaghetti!" ours calls out to me.
The master bedroom happily murmurs
That it likes our collection of homemade quilts best.
The nursery nods, but adds in a whisper
That as long as it has a new baby, it's blest.
The attic says nothing, content with its secrets;
The den wonders in earnest why we have no pet;
The frustrated garage wishes it were the tool shed;
The proud porch has a swing and thinks it's all set.
And I say our home is like part of the family
With a daily report of its own when we dine.
If it has enough love and is welcome at table
It will have all it needs and be perfectly fine.
Well, that is my humble bit of poetry for this week! Please put up the links to your own in the combox, as I can't wait to see what you superior poets have come up with!