The one year old nest

Two young birds
Setting up a nest
A space to call ours
For succor and rest

Things aren’t perfect
There are color clashes
And gross mismatches
There’s a chip coming off
And a light that flickers.

There are wires peeking from that corner
I can sense newspapers hiding somewhere
Old junk that’s been hoarded
Hundred keys abandoned with zero care

But then there are memories
In each direction that we turn
Of things old and new
What we bought and earned

The moments we spent on the easy chair,
Give it the comfort that holds you so
And it is the warmth of company
That gives the candles their lovely glow

Masks and paintings and souvenirs
They are but mere props
The lead actors are the inhabitants
Invariably, the drama never stops

The bell chimes a welcome
And familiarity ushers you through the door.
When you enter you feel different,
The harsh spotlight on you, no more

It is then that we realize
it’s not the twigs we collect nor the leaves we store
But the residue of happiness
That gives our nest its real décor,

We may trade this space with another
And our possessions may change too
But our home will always have a perfect view,
Because I will see it with you.