AS

Useta Have

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.

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