My Home

My Home

I open the door, remove my coat and feel the weight begin to slip

I shake it, hang it and remove my hat, almost ready to greet my cat

Already lighter, remove my shoes, almost gone those worldly blues

Open the door to my living room, Bob asleep on the sofa, I presume.

Yes there he is, he starts to stir, stretches, then begins to purr

Stroke him, fuss him and then proceed to get his food

Into my kitchen, that’s where it’s kept, search the box and grab a pouch

Shake it because he knows the sound, he begins to circle round

Quickly put the kettle on, as it can boil while dishing up

In his bowl goes half a pouch, keep him keen and lean not stout.

Greedily he wolfs it down, I open the door and off he bounds

In my mug the tea bag goes followed by water freshly boiled

I stand and stir and stir and stir, thinking of the day I’ve had

All in all it wasn’t too bad because I’ve had worse and also I’ve topped up my purse.

Tea bag removed, top up with milk, take in both hands and begin to sip

Through the window I spot Bob, in my garden, not a bad job

It’s not the best but it’s mine, it’s where Bob and I spend our time

Often he sits, by my side, as I sow and rake and hoe, he takes the lead, digs up my seeds

I can’t get angry for this is our haven, a place perfect for his misbehaving

Time for Tea, nothing fancy, frozen chips, veggie sausage and some tomatoes

I grew them myself so they’re a treat, then help myself to something sweet

Bob’s back in so I wash the pots, while he washes his bobby socks

After that it’s time for telly, Bob’s on my knee so I tickle his belly

This is my home, ideal for me, though it may not be

everybody’s perfect cup of tea!

Vince Hall