If I should write a poem

About my future home,

It shall go a bit like this,

Ah, yes, there we go.

A house made of solid ground,

Perhaps built with bricks.

From the outside, nothing new.

Inside, as wild as it gets.

Walk in the door you’re sure to find

Tie-dye to magpie

To deep-dye to high-fly,

An oddly colorful home to be blinded by.

Botanicals hanging near and far

From the kitchen to the bedroom

To the bathroom in the hall,

Happy little plants you’ll see hanging on the wall.

Candles kindled, aroma fills the air.

Sage, cinnamon, Citrus Karma

Sweet spring meadows,

Candles made from homely care fill the air.

Inside the living room would you see

Pillows laying on the floor,

Scattered here and there,

Plus peace signs for decor.

With that said, epilepsy of color!

Purple, blue, green, and yellow,

Red and mountain dew.

Oh my, colors, with their happy, happy hues.

Hear the sound of steady water

From outside my backdoor.

Look outside, there you’ll find

A garden overseen by tors.

My home is odd,

Some type of 70s galore.

I find it quite beautiful there,

Something I care deeply for.