Cinnamon and Lavender

There is a building that smells
Like cinnamon and lavender
Full of rounded cushions and
Leather couches and laughter
Bounces, echoing from the walls
The neighbours complain but

They never really grasped the real
Importance of the little things, like
M&M’s at two in the morning and
Crinkling of wrapping torn from
Twirl bars, because we’re all ballerina’s
At some stage in our lives

the only light is from the TV but the
volume is down low at a bare hum
so the gossip can flourish in the
darkness, it’s easier not to feel judged
when no one can see your face, but the
chocolate helps to compensate the
friendly critics we offer each other

the candles never burn out, not once
since I’ve been there, in all of my years
we tend to them nicely, the flames and
the warmth of the fire brings warm to my
aching bones, on the worst days, this building
is just a building, plain and ordinary, alone,
when the door creaks open, that’s when

it’s home.


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