If My Body Was A House

If my body was a house, 
I would ask my visitors:
Please take off your shoes,
This is sacred ground.

I would open the windows first thing in the morning
Let light, dew and fresh air in. 

If my body was a house, 
I would make sure
There are always logs in the hearth
Water on the kettle,
Books in every corner. 

I would spend hours, 
Loving and gazing
At the cobwebs entangled in my daily living.

If my body was a house
I would give it a nice coat of paint every now & again, 
Make it shine as it deserves. 

If anyone ever insulted my house
I would say:
How dare you? 
I live IN here. 

I would only invite the kindest, 
Most respectful of guests. 
Those that arrive and say:
May I come in? 

If my body was a house
I would allow myself to live in it. 

I would settle down
Rest in monotonous peace.
And make myself at home.