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I want a home with a bright blue door. A home with two rooms, maybe three,


no more.


The fence would be waist high, crooked. Only chips of paint would remain on grey pickets.


I want a home with tress that have seen families come and go. Ropes that once held tires sway in the breeze. With tradgedy and joy stained walls. Closed eye echoes down the halls.


Afternoon rays would peek through stained glass. The colours would dance across well worn wooden floors.


I want a studio shack, in the back. Where I would make shitty potterey.


That,


only I could ever love. I want a garden with cats and dogs burried near by. Though silent now, their love still felt.


A home with character. With history.


A home for


you


and


for me.

Created: Apr 06, 2014

Tags: home, prose, dream, house

AndreiDoubleJ Document Media