You lent me the word Conversation
Which I would like to make more of
You sold me your House of Belonging
Which I would like to become my shelter
Your phrasing is familiar
I can hear you
As I read your words
The whole idea of one place
For one person
To invite many people
Yet, then
To be home for one person
Yes, that rather appeals to me
It offers itself up
As something I may once have had
As something I may have once again
Yet in this house already
There are many desks
Many places
For a quiet person
To write quietly
Or for an enraged person
To rant profusely
Or best of all
For one who is at peace to be peaceful
There are too many study books
On the peat herringbone Bowmore stool
Yet I am no intellectual
Nor do I have a strong deep memory
I forget the words
Almost as if I choose to discard them
In search of the more familiar shelters
