Oh Lydia, I’m sorry that nothing seems to fit,
Angles are wonky and the walls don’t budge one bit.
My ceilings hang so low they always knock you down to earth,
But there are many new homes who envy my beams’ girth!
My windows rattle in the wind and the air blasts through,
Oh, so many times you have wished they were new.
But the air that chills you keeps the bugs at bay,
You’ll be glad of my draught when the deadly ones can’t stay.
My little doors aren’t perfect and everything’s squished in tight,
But my structure is strong, so remember late at night,
New houses are soulless – they have no beating heart
Their floorboards haven’t been there right from the start.
Their smooth walls look perfect but sterility belies,
The emptiness that lingers and mass bought wall art tries to hide.
So when the tears flow at my humble crooked flaws,
Make a hot cuppa. Breathe. And smile – I’m imperfectly yours
I’ll keep your memories sacred and watch your family grow,
I’ll witness every smile and tear and wherever you go
You’ll be part of my story..my legacy..me
Besides, an old armchair is comfier than a settee!