A clock in the house

A clock in the house

The length of a day sometimes makes me feel at home,
A tiny house and tiny windows with curtains.
Two bicolored cats scratching their back on the fence,
A friend who knocks on the door bringing me outside.

Walking next to each other at the right distance.
The park is closer than I thought, as she told me.
It is not really home but it is familiar.
Birds, dogs and kids are making a real noisy soup.

Once I get back to the house, the cats are now gone.
I am getting used to the quietness of here,
I wish I could stay all the time, like the clock hands.

Now on the cold sheets as if it was a habit,
I think I might have forgotten something somewhere.
I believe this day was a little different.