The hovel I call home.

Broken heater winders,

never cool summers.

But, the company is good.

Critters scampering before my feet,

praying today is not the day,

begging forgiveness perhaps,

the instant before darkness.

But, the company is good

Painted mould chipping,

revealing green undercoat habitat,

floating to my nose with every breath.

But, the company is good.

My friends through thick and thin.

Home…

D.M.