Red Barnhouse

Worn, weathered, smothered, soft
As if hands had been smoothing 
Down its surface for ages
We ran our fingers on the planks 
No splinters, no splinters
The porch invited us to sit
And live and rock a while
We obliged the empty chairs
You and me, we obliged
And I was happy there 

Indoors, the braided rug
was a cushion under our feet
You were never loud, only quiet
Footsteps
And you never needed the rug
You –
Walked softly on the creaking 
Floor.

She was born there
Sweet sticky-faced cheeked
Dream
And she needed the rug 
Crawling on knees, or tippy-toe
And her feet were happy there

And it was only a dream, all of it

And I was happy there.