I’ve been advised it isn’t wise
to dwell in the land of Useta Have.
But I must confess I am a mess
when I think about what I Useta Have.
In Useta Have, I had a front porch, a side patio. I could sit out in my back yard
early of a morning with a cuppa; could step out on my front porch
where I could work, unobserved,
at spinning, or writing, or helping plants grow, or
gathering wool.
Useta Have was awash with cubbies, closets, cabinets
some built-in
in the house, home, that was mine in Useta Have.
