The White House

The silvery moon flooded 
the huge flat roof brighter than a flame,
of a house so white as an Indian pipe,
oozing with a "wow" factor
in a small farming village called " Wouw"
where a sprite appeared all day and night.

A house where she hoped
she could stay for the rest of her life,
be a part of its existence
Or merely one of those mythic jokes? 

She didn't see it coming
" or a phantom in the dark"
too many words have been spoken 
too many  hearts have been broken,
" why make vows when they are 
meant to be broken".

A house not made of sand
bricks, steel, woods, cartoons,
but of love once so divine
vanished through a piece of paper
a bane of its existence
subsided into obscurity
secretly hidden for a while.

A quintessence of a contemporary house
square walls, flat roof
devoid of extreme trim
alas! against her will
why oh why in heaven's name
' she is still married to him'.

The door reflected the unconscious part of her,
where the wind blew through the interior:
felt in the long narrow kitchen -
the cold bare walls of the bedroom -
soaked through her bones
and the spacious living room.

A house where her first and only precious jewel
was born on early windy, sunny Monday morning,
when a heron was at its best
swooping down the sky like an airplane
stuck in a string barrier surrounding the pond
rapacious, determined, slow, and unquenchable.

The indomitable courage of saving it
was in vain.
she grieved when she laid the heron down to rest
and the house built for better or worse
her life, her breath, her comfort zone
devastated, her soul tearing apart
" why did it have to end this way"

The same old  'common refrain' 
" why did it have to end this way"
echoing in the bubbling stream,
kept appearing in her dream,
whispering her name,
but did not come back again

Her heart bled
eyes flickered with anger
and walked away in agonizing woe
as she watched her little princess
dancing on the spacious living room
on Valentine's day with the fiercest foe.

Ahh! she sighed, " three is a crowd"
" I can't bear to watch this show"

She gazed through the huge wide window
- the eyes of the house -
enjoying the awesome view of the garden
designed by a landscape architect,
where the birds chirping, frogs croaking
fishes and ducks gracefully swimming 
sounds echoing her emptiness.

Her solace is from the blanket
her escape for happiness
and her night overflowed with warmth and tenderness.

It was a house not a home
chillier than a freezer,
where she played the "whole" to a "half" relationship
she didn't lament though the loss of both,
but how the way it's done
their quest for property is won
home is to the mother and the only begotten son.

Here she is in her own abode,
a place she can call a 'home'
where she can sink deep down into her thoughts
writing her own poems as an inspiration
no more clouds of confusion
a huge solution to her endless seclusion
better than the 'white house'
now hanging on the wall
a place where it belongs.

Copyright © by LCYODICO 

​​​​​