Our House - Poem by Mary Nagy
Our house was just an empty box.
We filled it with our love.
At first it was just you and I.
Then 3 more (with help from above.)
We fixed the rooms and filled them up
with things we like to share.
Some of our things are ''different''.
I like to call them ''rare''.
Like your bull horns and antlers
as well as all my books.
We just care that ''We like it! ''
We don't care how it looks.
Some people call it ''cluttered''.
Some call it ''shabby chic''.
Our house fits us just perfectly,
like us, it's just ''unique''.
Comments about Our House by Mary Nagy
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