Four Walls.

A multicoloured painted door hung precariously to brick walls painted sky blue.

Two grimed stained windows used to look out through at the big bad world.

A chair that's seen better days sits beside a wobbly table that's adorned with dust.

The wife is standing beside the grease stained cooker, wearing a frown with her arms folded supporting her Dolly Parton sized bust.

On the unpainted interior wall a fly.

I swat it, well it could be a spy.

Our wedding picture hangs unevenly on the unpainted wall.

I am surprised like our love that it didn't fall.

This to me is home.

Sitting alone in the overgrown garden a cheeky smiling gnome.

Four walls that's where I live.

Inside these four walls there is no more love to give.

But we survive.

Until we are no longer alive.

No one knows these four walls address.

Bye I now digress.