A Home

A house, by my definition,
Is a place where you hang your hat.
Some chairs you can’t use;
You never wear shoes
And you wouldn’t find hairs from a cat.
Knick-knacks abound
And they’re always left down.
No little ones dare play in here.

A home is entirely different.
The welcome mat’s always left out;
You can leave on your shoes
And and sit where you choose–
But the cat beat you there, no doubt.
There are crumbs on the rug,
Baby gives sticky hugs.
Love and laughter fill each room with cheer.

Peoria Poetry Club Anthology, Millenium Edition, 2001

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