Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HOUSE, by GENEVIEVE BUCKLEY STARR


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HOUSE, by                    
First Line: When mother looks at me and says
Last Line: And not mom's little son.
Subject(s): Family Life; Mothers; Relatives


When mother looks at me and says,
"Come, son, it's time for us
To wash your face and comb your hair,"
I never make a fuss,
Because we play a little game
Which makes it lots of fun.
We just pretend that I'm a house
And not her little son.

My curls are shingles on the roof
The wind has tossed about.
So, mother gets the comb and brush
And smooths the shingles out.
My eyes are windows bright and clear;
There's two of them, you see.
I pull the shades down good and tight
While mother scrubs them clean for me.

My ears are porches, one on each side;
My nose is the chimney tall.
I wrinkle it up and mother says,
"Take care, don't let it fall."
The door to the little house is red
And when it's all scrubbed clean,
My mother kisses me and says
I'm the nicest house she's seen.

So, now you see why cleaning up
Is such a lot of fun,
When we pretend that I'm a house,
And not mom's little son.





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