It's Still Life

Under Red Roof Tiles

The roof has red tiles.
They’d be happier baking
in sun, Spain or Morocco,
but instead they’re here
in February. Mist and cold.

The doors are white wood
with brass knobs, bevelled
glass. The floor waxed pine.
Apple trees, bare right now.
Plums, not one fruit last year.

This is my house. My home,
although a home is anywhere.
But it is what it is, right here.

Note: This is not my house. It’s A.I. artwork. Poem written for Fandango’s One Word Challenge “Home. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #FOWC #amwriting @midjourney