our houses

Our houses show their age.

Some years well-loved, full echo
of long-grown children, laughter
Other years? Neglected, worn down
by lack of will,
lack of money,
lack of time,
lack of love.

You need a whole paint job, and new windows.
I show damage from long ago water flowing
where it shouldn’t.
So much water, its shadows still
a stain on my ceilings.

The floors? All our floors are scarred and scraped and in need
No matter.

There are new sheets on the beds. Pillows I bought just for us.

You lead me outside and show me, near the sheltering
walls of your old house, the place you chose for me—
Right here, you say, I’ll turn the ground for you
Right here is where you can plant an herb garden