My House, Our Home

This house isn’t mine

And it hasn’t been for a long time

Even though I was so excited to move the couch over there

So that there was room for your armchair

And I was more than willing to start spilling my coffee every morning

Running into a brand new kitchen table

Because that table meant breakfast facing you

And the armchair is big enough for two

But now I’m wishing we’d fixed the window sill

Because the paint is chipping and the glass makes everything still

I was ready then to make my house ours

I was ready then, and I’m ready now

I’m ready to hear the scuff of your feet on the doormat

And I’m ready to see your smiling face doing just that

Every once in a while I’ll be sitting, or thinking, or walking

And I’ll pause because I think I hear you talking

So darling, I’m begging you, come down from there, come home

Because this house doesn’t fit just me, alone.