A home in the sunshine,
there will be a woman who
sits inside to write her stories
On a typewriter
or sometimes on paper that fades
She likes her typewriter
because of the way it clicks
like she does
Kitchen windows let in cottony air
and sweet jasmine
but the pretty lady has flowers of her own
And there are children who laugh
and fall softly on the grass
I can love them and sing to them
and hold them tightly
This lady will want to be there in the home
in the sunshine for as long as she can