yet nobody made them;
Things get lost,
yet nobody lost them;
Other things get broken,
yet nobody broke them,
Tools get used and left out,
yet nobody used them.
I don't want to live in a house
where the last one to use it is the last one to clean it,
And the one who emptied it isn't the one to refill it.
And if all of that means
I am destined to live
in a house by myself, then so be it.
Because I will fill it with plants,
and friends, and music, and love.
The doors will always be open,
a bed or a futon or a spot in the corner always free.
But the saddest thing might be
if I can only fill that magical mystery house