You can play in it,
sing in it,
have ten fits a day in it.
Cry in it,
sleep in it,
you could possibly keep sheep in it.
Walk around quite bare in it,
have someone there to share in it,
laugh when no-one’s there in it.
Dance the Highland Fling in it,
hang upside down in it,
stick pictures on the wall in it.
Have a midnight feast in it,
act just like a beast in it,
scream until you’re hoarse in it.
Soak hours in the bath in it,
sing out loud offkey in it,
dress up outrageous and shout ‘look at me’ in it.
This lovely poem about ‘what can happen in a home’ was sent to me by a reader who’s dear Aunty Joyce, “who was a very artsy and free spirited woman who definitely lived her life to the fullest”, wrote shortly before leaving her home.
Life Coaching with Ruth
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