I am a room with a soft carpet
deep wool pile to sink your toes in
frayed in places
I’ve almost gotten out all the stains
the queen anne couch I restored
is beautiful and not the least bit wobbly
it might look silly there
against the pelt of the beast I slew
except it doesn’t
I open glass-fronted doors
to let you in, but stand between
It’s not a fancy place
well loved back from aching neglect
mended labouriously to beauty again
wear your silk slippers in my soul home
the carpet covers a threadbare heart.