Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA
I stood there on the quiet street,
My brand new house in front of me.
It would be everything I'd need,
The architect said happily.
I seemed to notice evidence
As minutes drifted slowly by
That there were things that made no sense;
Some features seemed to be awry.
I know that I'm no builder, but
In my mind it does surely seem
That, for a house to stand for long,
It needs to have some well-placed beams.
I asked to see the blueprints but
The architect had none to show.
He said emotion was his guide
And did construction with a "flow".
I then asked for him to explain
Its structural integrity.
He smiled a smile of merriment
And did his best to humor me.
He explained to me in quiet voice
That one reserves to humor fools
That, when emotions lead the way,
There is no need to follow rules.
The heart, he said, must be the guide.
One's passions as the guiding force.
Emotions serving as the base,
Imagination as the source.
As I peeked inside, I could see
The living room was barely there,
Some walls were no more than half done,
The spiral staircase led nowhere.
The tiles had only been half-laid;
The porcelain sinks already chipped,
Door handles wouldn't turn at all,
The shower had a leak that dripped.
I hung my head and walked away.
I didn't even turn around
When, with the next breath of fresh air,
My brand new house came tumbling down.
So now, with my dreams fallen down
And with my home completely wrecked
I vow to never hire again
A poet for an architect.