Poem of Home

Remember my brilliant poem-a-morning plan? yeah, not so much. But here's one I wrote yesterday. These are all really crappy, I know it, but that just sucks for you. HUM. I'm practicing!

Oftentimes I think of home
that worn-out porch now overgrown
the hedges lank
the children flown
so far away
from there.
And somedays
in my waking hours
I smell the kitchen
the woodland flowers
and hear the crooked
screen doors creak
a lullaby alone.