The House At The End Of The Lane Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am imperfect
And its starting to rain.

I live at the house
At the end of the lane.

Where no one’s too nice,
And no one’s too mean.

Kiss me, take my hand,
And see what I mean.

I’ll give children,
And I hyphened last name,

A nice little yard and
Someone to blame.

I am imperfect,
Just a little odd man,

Balding and scarred and
White as the sand,

But if you kiss me, and take my hand,
You’ll see what I mean.

I’ll give you the kitchen
And something to clean.

You’ll be my wife, neither
Too nice or too mean.

And by two or three children
We’ll seal the whole thing.

We are imperfect and its
Starting to rain.

We live at the house
At the end of the lane.