The House We Live In.

You made a home for your hair-ties on the windowsill,

right next to the collection of rocks I have,

and a place for your pants on the top shelf.

Though you leave then on the floor.

No matter, I'll just steal the hair-ties.

The camping gear goes in the closet,

right next to the dresser drawers.

Though it makes its appearance in the early days of summer,

and never gets put back.

What if we need it? 

I leave you alone in the kitchen,

watching from the other room as you complete your task,

forgetting about the world.

You leave me alone when I write,

sitting across the room and saving the world from alien invaders.

It works,

and the bed we sleep in is always warm,

so I never want to leave it.