Laying slabs around our house,
I like the way each piece fits into place,
hear neighbours make admiring noises.
Well-laid or not, these shapes may still be here
long after we have gone,
reminding future occupants
that this old block
of bricks and paint and stone
was once, just for a while,
our well-loved home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem