Title:
Failed attempts at restructuring the roof this morning in the rain How it sits my family flashing lights into the chimneytrying to see it seeps through the roof joists and drips on the land still upright tree wood (branches?) drifting from the floor sill Can I afford cross-beams? How can I emulate the bark of elsewhere, rootless timbers? I stand on the front lawn, window frames sophisticated. All those glittering bits of glass it's ok the housewood that reminds of wood before its felling. Once more, this time it's appropriate, with feeling. our real needs answer you age does not profit us the hillside trees leak also the rain down to their roots
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 9 and 10:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.