Desperate solutions for beauty, blurting out
general answers to specific questions:
"I will get my family out of this drought!"
"We will make the mortgage despite these tensions!"(to this idea you cling)
Land will be allotted to us, our award.
What can't I afford?(everything)
We bring the look of elsewhere.
I focus myself over there:
In the house, to and fro.(Will this ever end?)
A garden of a front lawn, peppered by stucco.(you can't, on this, depend)
All that glitters sparkles in the surface.(it's just glass)
Wood carved into beams soon curses
a forest. I can see the trees from the city.
This is my house.
What is the sum of 11 and 8:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.