the door hinges sung jazz
trumpeting out somethin’ blue and sad
as they moved in for the first time
and the dinner table, with its wooden legs
danced bad
and the whole house creaked and cracked
under the weight of not yet being a home
cause you gotta love some place
before it can be yours
and this house doesn’t understand
the love it’s never know.
brick and white paint
it’s all just lumber and plumbing
until you’ve fixed the sink yourself
a place can’t know loving
and the door hinges squeal in jazz
cheap window panes
like John Coltrane’s Transition
new house blues
until a home has heard the shuffle and swing
of tiny toddler feet
or a child’s laugh
until you’ve made love in every single room
and the bath
a house is not a home
it’s barely even half
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‘Until you’ve fixed the sink yourself, a place can’t know loving’ I got chills, this is brilliant!!!
Love this, such great wording. You definitely have a way to word with emotions