If my house were a couch
it would beckon those from far and near
to lay down their troubles and their fears
for here was a place of rest.
It would call out like a sparrow’s song,
Come, come. The night is long.
Be a candle and melt in to me.
If my house were a couch
it would be softer than a newborn’s cheek,
sturdier than a woodpecker’s beak
and smell of fresh cedar boughs.
It would never stain nor need a wash
not even from spaghetti sauce.
If my house were a couch
every nook would be a place of rest,
a book would lay upon on my chest
and time would almost stop.
I’d lean back with an iced fruit drink
and ignore the dirty kitchen sink.
My mind would be at peace, I think.
And just imagine, a child’s dream:
my whole house would be a trampoline.
A giggle would come from every bounce.
Laughter would shriek from every pounce.
If my house were a couch.
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This is the second painting in a series of black and white watercolor paintings. The first painting was called, Mama Bear. The third and fourth are called, If My House Were a Bathtub and If My House Were a Campfire.