I look around at all the joy I see—

Blank walls adorned in pert domestic charm;

A canvas daubed with female liberty,

Cast in the glow of softness, love and warmth.

White curtains frilled, not of a choice I’d make,

Light floral patterns printed on the walls—

The scent of bread, still warm and oven-baked;

Rich reverent chimes that echoes down the hall.

Sunlight gleams on polished maple floors,

The whispered songs of zephyrs from the hearth—

No finer place to make my spirits soar,

No sounder haven on this callous earth.

A man may build a refuge—wood and stone…

But needs a woman’s heart to make a home.