Colleen is halfway buried as she crochets up a quilt
I'm getting in some songs before my voice begins to wilt.
Kids are shouting back in Emmy's room, the pizza's getting hot;
Folks come over every Wednesday whether we're at home or not.
When we moved North to Rainbow's End some things got re-arranged;
The family's gotten bigger, but the main things haven't changed.
Folks are singing in the Great Room, and the chili's getting hot;
They come over every Sunday whether we're at home or not.
computers, toys, and
magazines, and quiet co
The bathroom's lined with ti
boxes full of
cupboards up ab
There's a gallery of science-fiction pictures in the hall,
And something's taped or bolted on to each square foot of wall.
Our children's closets look just like a baby dragon's hoard;
It's true that we're disorganized, but at least we're seldom bored.
There's a guest crashed on the futon couch who's too wiped out to leave,
And something in the fridge that's been there since last Christmas eve.
We're packed in five dimensions, and through the twilight zone,
It's all the friendly clutter here that makes it feel like home.
Inspired by a friend's account of a visit to our house. At the
Younger Daughter's insistence I pluralized ``daughters'' in verse 2, and
at the older's insistence changed the name in verse 3. Now, of course,
``some things got rearranged'', and the former verse 2 has moved down
to verse 4, where ``daughters'' has become ``children''.