White and warm are the walls of this house
Where you are not invited.
I sweep my floors and dry each dish
With a caress you’ll never know.
I sleep spread out on a queenly bed,
Composing dreams you can’t disturb.
And when you knock— how will you knock?
With three or four or five?
But when you do, we’ll sit outside—
With you on your side, and me on mine—
And when you’re done you’ll leave.
I’ll go inside and wash your mug
And put it in its place.
This house is mine and white and warm,
A priceless real estate.
