Homey
 

 


Adequately sizable, built for comfort,
with a welcome sign on the door.
The back yard resembles no resort
but it holds the hammock I adore.


It started as a concrete foundation,
it was we that made it a home.
Being a true homebody is my avocation,
seldom feeling the need to roam.


I’ll go to my grave a slave to a mortgage
but my final resting spot is here.
I’ve gotten so damned used to the money hemorrhage,
where I’ll breathe my last is quite clear.


Life once held more adventure and spice,
willpower and stamina would dictate.
I’ve now found the joy of a recliner is nice
and no grandiose story will I need to create.


If I start sliding faster down the slippery slope
allow me to do it within these walls.
No hospice, where they’ll prop me up with false hope,
I’ll be right here when the Grim Reaper calls.



Submitted for the Anything Goes challenge in an effort to show support for the challenges

By AlwaysMyWords

© 2012 AlwaysMyWords (All rights reserved)

 

Read more poems by  AlwaysMyWords
Send this poem to a friend
Read 11 viewers comment(s)

This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - with Bubby-- read page for rules and info (challenge has been closed)


The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page