The Red Door

A nut brown ranch house
With a Red door

Ivy curving in the eaves

Marigolds, tulips and crocuses

In the garden

A huge fruitless (thank goodness)

Mulberry tree in the back yard

Perfect for climbing

(if you could reach that one lower branch)

There was a playhouse, too

(a shed taken over by a sisterly coup)

Cherished wall to wall

Avocado green carpet
(we were the last to get wall-to-wall)

Three bedrooms
In grade school, mine was heaven
Lavender, with bright pink furniture;
High school soothed with blue, 
Homework with the radio blasting
Reading with the radio blasting
(transistor mind you, so cool!)
Vinyl dinette, four seats perfect for
The four of us
And a yellow and green kitchen
That always smelled amazing
(Except on "liver" nights)

Safe inside, cozy-excepting sibling screeches

Outside a cold war

(“Better dead, than red”)

Whispered loud enough

For kids to hear

A Commie had snuck in

With a red door

I'm dating myself here (besides wall-to-wall carpeting, transistor radio), but back in sixties red was a pretty inflammatory color, usually meant your were a Communist sympathizer—but my mom just liked red. Of course it didn't help that my parents were liberal teachers, wearing bell bottoms and long hair, who'd infiltrated a conservative compound of neighbors. :-) But that's what fences and hedges are for...

Written for Poetic Bloomings #67, describe your home prompt, and dverse poets at dversepoets.com open link night