Title:
Hang on, fluorescent lightingIt's drywall, his Vancouverique theories on Home Depot lighting aisles.I forget his words as he says them, lost in my kaleidoscope of paint samples Sip my empty cup of tea. Time to plant tulips. Time to stop playing gone and tempt him with window ledges.Enough with his home improvement. I make my escape as he fusses over the window trim. He weights his options like a mother deciding which of her darling children will live. High quality precast foam or Kiln-dried wood.No more.The Garden Centre has opened up its gaping maw to me once more, and I vanish into the hardened earth.
Hang on, fluorescent lighting
It's drywall, his Vancouverique theories on Home Depot lighting aisles.
I forget his words as he says them, lost in my kaleidoscope of paint samples Sip my empty cup of tea.
Time to plant tulips.
Time to stop playing gone and tempt him with window ledges.
Enough with his home improvement.
I make my escape as he fusses over the window trim. He weights his options like a mother deciding which of her darling children will live.
High quality precast foam or Kiln-dried wood.
No more.
The Garden Centre has opened up its gaping maw to me once more, and I vanish into the hardened earth.
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 11 and 11:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.