My favourite thing is simple, it warms me

in the winter and cools me in the summer.

It's there when I'm in spirals of woe

and sparks of joy,

comfortable and careless.

It moves out when I do, settles, and stays with me.

My favourite thing is messy, it spins, and shouts,

but it's also balanced, still, and quiet.

Lights are strung across it, which guide me

through the silence of the night.

Clothes cramped into drawers, an unused wardrobe,

and the old-timey cabinet become a sign of those

who used the place before me.

The centre of my favourite thing is framed

with tan wood and lined with cotton, fluff and fur

ensuring its comfort.

The centre is sensible

and nearly always clean but the surrounding

is the opposite, decor and bags, once neat,

now crazed, reminding me to clean

but ultimately ignored.