My Dreamhouse

first it must have a path
of polished flat stones
leading to the door of
strong wood from the
deep forest locked with
a golden knob and the
windows are made of
glass where i can see
the moon and sun when
i lay my head on a pillow

the living room must
be not so big to keep
us in whispers just the
two of us in intimations

and then the bed must
not be so warm so we
can be there to make
it warmer and even
hotter a little bit to
accommodate our
hidden passions

and then there is
this secret room where
my heart and soul shall
stay, that even you my
love shall never know

this is my dreamhouse
you are always free to leave
when your love finally burns out

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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