Ms. Jill Eisnaugle gave us the challenge to try our hand at renting that special home, and there is mine.
Sorry folk, I haven't got that Realtor's Diploma, but, what the heck! here it goes...

The house is not too big, but big enough,
with an attic full of rhymes if you ever need
to write a love song to an absent love one
or a little lullaby to a rosy cherub in the crib.

The white picket fence needs a little paint,
but covered with flowers, paint you don’t need,
and with all the windows welcoming open
a visitor will be staying, its name? Spring!

A little and private room you will find facing
sunup, if you are an early bird, by the East,
there is a table with a stack of virgin paper,
pencils, the room where Muse Erato sleeps.

Every corner of the house and even its walls
have hear from many a writer reciting poetry,
the floors of the house are made with rhymes
and the roof is strong, build with great fantasy.

There’s not a sign of a Realtor for a humble nest,
the house is for rent, but not to anybody’ wish,
because the ones wishing to live here my friends,
need to have in their blood the poet’s curiosity.

The cat come with the house, and in the mornings
you should attend that the birds get their seeds,
and if a cheeky squirrel happens to come by, for
Heaven sake don’t read a poem or it will never leave.

Now, The Poetic Home is for rent
and you should apply but only here,
if you have a poet inside your heart…
that’s the only thing I need to hear.