were no
curtains on the windows.

We moved in
and three days
he came.

Boxes sat
in corners
no curtains
on the windows.

glass stared
in at me
as I sat on
the couch
holding our

Only Oprah for company.

Berber carpet
pristine threads
spread out
for living
in this
living room.

First stain?
Carrot purée
from Maggie—
visiting baby
and she spewed.

The bright
patch filled
with relief
we can start
this living room.

Visit L.L. at Seedlings in Stone for more poetry magic…


  1. says


    Thank you for sending the cd’s to Ellen. I am sure she will be blessed by them.
    I have a prayer request on arise 2 write from a new blogger with a link to her site. I do not know her, but she asked me for prayer and asked me to ask others for prayer. When I read her blog I was burdened to post a prayer request on her behalf.

    Blessings and prayers, andrea

  2. says

    this poem picked up my feelings and carried them with it, turning them over, spilling them through my heart, until at the end they were in my throat and I had to swallow them down to write this comment.

    I love poems that are about real life.

  3. says

    Aaahh, Laura, my living room floor is so filled with orange and brown patches. I refuse to replace the carpet and don’t have time to really clean it. Sometimes I love the patches and sometimes they make me tired just looking at them. But I keep reminding myself that one day I may not walk through spit-up over and over again, and I try harder to love the moment. Thanks.

  4. says

    oh , the Oprah days,
    we had an empty room in our first house, for tag and forts and balloons, and then decided to bring my husbands parents to live with us for awhile.
    The house to home is a tangible thing, as is living , to being alive.

  5. says

    This was wonderful…truthful-in more ways than one, truth from your experience and truth about people-in general…we sometimes are too careful with the new-ness and forget to enjoy it…until it’s stained or scratched!

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