Poem

[hrj]

I am mourning the thought of leaving this house
Like the anticipation of a death in the family,
And yet --
The things I have done to make it my own,
I could do again.
The things I have surrounded myself with to line my nest
Would come with me.
And wherever I go,
I will plant plums and roses.
There must always be plums and roses.

Comments

[syele.livejournal.com]

and laurel! And all of us! :)

[hrj.livejournal.com]

Well, the laurel I'd have to start again from scratch. Lots of things I'd have to start again from scratch. It's odd: so many of my friends are so mobile and unrooted. It's not like my current house is some sort of family heirloom. I don't know why I'm so freaked out about the thought of moving. All I know is I have to do SOMETHING. I just can't take this any more.