Auckland Poetry

A Cottage

I’m not taking up your space
this house is my home it’s made
of stone, built to last forever;

no children waiting for me to
vacate these rooms, when I’m
gone there will be layers of dust;

unhurried silence, sighing walls
bird song on the roof and insects
caught in a spider’s web;

I, a passing sentinel, came took
the job, roof and board, till another
soul comes and makes it a home.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS