Welcome home

Nestled between the Bowmans and the Hansons
Is a house, with a yard.
The blades of green beneath me
Are the world’s shag carpet, and the
Blue ceiling seems neverending as I wave hello
To my friend the bunny rabbit,
Peeking around the bulb that lights my room.
I spend my time drawing with a pencil
That has no lead, on a canvas that
Resets itself with the wind;
Making melody of my breathing
With the instrument folded between
My two index fingers.
The day passes quickly, and night comes to me
With the darkness of serenity,
My room lit by stick-on stars that line
The walls and the ceiling.
I settle for sleep on a bunkbed of branches,
Bowing under my weight as if I am their queen.
Just when I am about to dream,
I am roused from my slumber—
“Come inside, dinner’s ready!”

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Welcome home

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