My Wife, My Home
To Kate on her 24th Birthday, 2009.
My wife is my home,
Wherever we go, wherever we roam.
In our living room while she sits and she reads
I sit in my blue chair and consider her deeds.
Sometimes we are in the jungle, and she uses a machete
Cleaning out our bedroom, always on the ready.
She swings it high and she swings it low
She cuts up spiders in a single blow.
Then she picks up my clothes and swings out on a vine
Leaving our bed made and the room clean by nine.
Sometimes we are in a fairy tale, and she uses her magic skills
She plants every bean she finds, from here to the hills.
Then she waves her hands and she waters it all
And then she dances around, until the corn is nice and tall.
Then she whistles a tune and all the rabbits come out to see
As the amaryllis grows big and blooms prettily.
Sometimes we are at a construction site, and she uses big machines
They rumble and they growl and they blend food to smithereens.
Sometimes in the kitchen, food will fly as she cooks
So, she wears a pretty apron, just like all the books.
This makes her the boss and she tells me what to do:
Dice that onion and whip the moisture out of that potatoo.
Sometimes we are in a garden, and she weeds our house
She plucks up the chairs and vacuums and cleans like a mouse.
Then she rakes in my study and moves piles from here to there
So that when she is done, everything is in its place, even my hair.
Last she puts on a breathing mask and sprays down the shower
Calm and collected she blasts it clean in less than one hour.
This is my wife, this is my home.
Wherever we go, wherever we roam.
