My house

I pad around on the deep red floorboards,

I am just getting to know their every scratch,

Where they creak with my footsteps,

But there’s no-one to disturb.

Solitude is sweet liberation,

There are many things to do, but nothing needs doing.

Liveable and comfortable with hot water,

Free from the sun.

I can’t believe how lucky I am,

That this is all mine,

my cottage full of dogs,

Where friends gather to drink beer and wine.

Music always playing,

The television just there to make the living room,

Socially acceptable,

For movies and football.

Every day when I feel those floorboards,

Against my bare feet,

I pause to think,

About my charmed life.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.