My house may be drafty and messy and old,
And the squirrels in the attic have gotten quite bold.
One leak in the roof when it rains really hard,
And the dog may have dug up some holes in the yard.
The garden grows mud and the roses are dead,
And half of our stuff is boxed up in the shed.
There's a puddle of mud at the end of the drive,
And just under the rafters is where the wasps thrive.
The kitchen is country and not quite my style,
The bathroom desperately needs some new tile.
The blinds are all torn from the kids looking out,
And the bathtub could really use a new spout.
The windows need caulked and the siding replaced,
And the kids' bedroom walls have all been defaced.
But one thing I've learned is it's all relative,
Last year at this time, I had no place to live.
I stayed with my family and they were so kind,
But I wanted a place that I could call mine.
To have my own kitchen with all my own dishes,
The decor all done to my exact wishes.
My own comfy bed and six little ones, too,
Places for their clothes and their coats and their shoes.
I love the front porch and the old wooden floors,
I live in the country, no need to lock doors.
I love our big yard and the okie red dirt road,
I even learned to fix toilets when they all overflowed!
This last year was tough but I loved every minute,
Our house is the best house to all who live in it.
PS: I DO lock my doors, so don't come get me...and someone please piss me off and save me from corny poems! I need some material...fast!
