This house is mine.
Its sturdy walls, its trusty stairs,
Its softly yielding fireside chairs,
Its smiling windows, friendly doors,
All mine. Not yours.
I can’t define
How much this peaceful place has meant
To me, alone, fulfilled, content
To sip my blissful, brimming cup.
Then you turned up.
You seem to think
You own the place. You’ve brought your brood
Of whingeing brats demanding food
While you defend their beastly cause
With beak and claws.
I need a drink.
No, two. I need to be alone
Where beaks are banned, claws never shown.
You win. No shadow of a doubt,
I’m getting out.
