The Perfect Home for Me
This poem was first published in the November, 1999 issue of Fantasy, Folklore & Fairytales. It was reprinted in the Unlocking Worlds chapbook in June, 2001. It is protected by copyright.
If you like this poem, please let me know.
The Perfect Home for Me
The tree was small when first it grewFrom such a tiny seed.
So small, in fact, I couldn't guess
It would fulfill my need.
So many years went past before
It grew so very high
That standing at the base of it,
It seemed to reach the sky.
'Twas then the tiny, crawly things
That scurry in the dark
Began to burrow little holes
To live beneath its bark.
But much to their despair, there came
A loud and noisy bird
That pecked a larger opening
Where scurrying was heard.
A squirrel happened by that hole
And thought that it would be
A dandy little place where she
Could raise her family.
She made it even bigger yet,
For she had nuts to store
So they'd have food come winter time,
When foraging was poor.
As time went by, they moved away.
An owl came to rest,
And found the hole to be ideal
For her to make her nest.
Three baby owls were hatched in there,
So small and fluffy white;
But when they'd grown sufficiently
They flew into the night.
The mother, too, has left the nest;
Again the hole is free.
I think, yes, now it could become
The perfect home for me.
I'll paint the walls with rainbows bright,
Plant mushrooms on the floor,
And cover everything in sight
With pixie dust galore!
I'll cast a spell to hide the hole,
To keep my privacy.
Yes, this will be the perfect home.
Now wouldn't you agree?
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