new house

our pens have dreamt of a new house

as much as we have



your spoon has traced dreams

across the surface of breakfast tea



a little rooftop, little curtains

in the silence of seven a.m.



I wiped away your whining and

wrote it in a binder:



even your tears have

windows and chimneys



	~



tubas will sound

cars will come to life



take us to a new house

revving their engines, puffing their lungs



prompting goosebumps across us

all choiring, a new house!



a place to build beds!

I think you would kiss my



shoulder at the sight

of a new house

© Ben Ladouceur