My House

I’ll let you in my house, 

But you must to ask to come in.

You just window shop,

A beautiful exterior,

Yet you can’t see inside.

It’s easy for me to enter your house,

It’s harder for me to let you in mine.

I can’t let you in just because you like me, 

There has to be compatibility.

I’ll guide you through my rooms,

Show you my childhood memories

Smell my blooming lilies.

Reading my poetry,

But you have to walk towards me,

Some rooms are dark,

You must open the door.

I want you to see that too.

I’ll guide you through,

And do the same for you.

Then turn the lights on,

Sunlight floods through the windows,

Erases the shadows.

My house is warm,

My lights are the sun,

The ceilings are stars,

That illuminate my scars.

Ask me questions,

Pick up my books, study the titles,

Look at my photos.

Get lost in my ethos.

Don’t sit on my couch and fall asleep,

Dance in my ballroom, sweep me off my feet.

Ask me about my walls, my art, my patterns.

I’ll bloom for you,

Unravel, layer by layer,

But only if you show interest in me.

If you ignore, I’ll retreat,

I must feel adored and safe.

My house radiates

Don’t shut the blinds,

Is my house too big for you?

Is my light too bright?

I’m an original Gaudi, a Frank Lloyd Wright,

My spires reach up into the starry night.

My stories are the decorations,

The walls are painted yellow and gold,

The floors are crunchy fall leaves.

My couch is a magic carpet,

That you must unfold.

I certainly don’t have a TV.

Roll around with me,

Through my colors.

Un-peel me, my weeping willow tree.

Swim in my salty, warm sea.

Get tangled in my hair,

My roof is curly.

I don’t own anything

Yet I have everything,

In my house.

Stay for awhile.

But the entry is not free,

You must put in effort to be here with me. 

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