A House of My Own

[Billy]

A House of My Own

Not a flat. Not an aprtment in back. Not a man's house. Not a daddy's. A house all my own. With my porch and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias. My books and my stories. My two shoes waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake a stick at. Nobody's garbage to pick up after.
Only a house quiet at snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.

I just finsihed reading The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. When read the above words, I felt that she wrote it for me. As a child, I had no my space because I have sisters and brother in our small house. I dreamed to have a small room of my own even if there was only a bed, a table and a chair. Until now I still share a room with other people. I don't know where my house is in the big city.