How good it is to have a place
To lay my head down and take off my shoes
To soap myself down at least once a day
Or twice if I so choose.
How good it is to have a book
To read at night and out in the garden
And this cup of tea that I brewed for me
Thrown into the bargain.
How good it is to have a spoon
This pair of sticks and my decorative bowl
So that I can make a batch of noodles
And eat a buttered roll.
How good it is to hear the frogs
Sweeping each other off sticky frog feet
Bellowing lullabies all through the night
To match the ocean deep.
How good it is to feel the smile
Which transforms my face as I meet the eyes
Of the woman who sells bananas next door
Underneath sunny blue skies.
How good it is to feel my feet
So barely shod ‘gainst clean brown tile
Little white toes nestled on the brown earth
Brings to my face a smile.
How good it is to feel my heart
Which pounding and thumping throughout the day
Is quieter now, lulled by books and by frogs
Which before me now lay.