when I'm feeling far from poem,
here are things to bring me back
to my words-bejewelled home:
You, cheerful, through the speckled paint
that makes you look like Father Time,
me, tickled, through sporadic rain,
that I can wash my hair just fine,
The breakfast that you finally
had time to eat at two,
the fire to make things cozy
that I tended just for you,
the progress on our project,
moving through its awkward phases,
and still affording grace
as I am honest with my praise.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 24, 2021
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