i wrote a poem

[ceci_suffit]

the only poem, in fact, that i have written in a very long time. it is called "my house is very busy."

i live with pen and ink and sheets
of paper locked away
and no one else but me will see
the games they like to play
the tricks on me, the awful din
if i forget to shut them in
but sometimes even when
i close the latch and go to bed
they all creep out
cause they prefer to nest inside my head
and in my dreams and all my things
little words run round
naughty or nice, they do suffice
to keep me off the ground
and i would be very lonely here
but i can’t quite get my head to clear
enough to see that words leave
when you speak them
so keep them close and hold them tight
and let them keep you up at night
then when they have to leave they might
say goodbye