Eleven years ago, I bought this place:
a single-room abode built sixty years
before I moved. I thought I’d use the space
most weeks, and share a habitat with dears
at times, a state away. I’d have two homes.
But then the offspring moved again, and I
stayed here full-time, except for weekend roams
to visit those who don’t abide nearby.

Remodeling ideas came into play.
Considering the kitchen, bathroom, bed,
big plans for spending money had their day,
but time conveyed a different view instead.
This cottage wasn’t built to win awards.
I’ll patch it for the uses it affords.