I searched all summer long for not house but home
I knew what I wanted, I wrote a list.
A place for animals, a horse someday, chickens, ducks,
maybe geese. All the things that I missed
from childhood, a goat for milk, maybe a donkey,
and fruit trees and berries and gardens of flowers
and herbs and vegetables to can and freeze.
A home in land to walk out of doors for hours
and a home in house of comfort and character
With at least three bedrooms so no one must share,
A den to be office and library, to write and play music
to sculpt and paint, A room to gather, and one to spare.
Oil to heat the cold and a wood stove to warm the cool
And if I could afford to dream a fireplace for fancy.
and a home in community, a small or private school
one fitting for the feeling of country
with neighbors not too close and not too far away
To walk the mile house to house in day
and at night a drive into the city to shop and play
and this I thought I found, the old farm, Praise the Lord!
One hundred years and maybe twenty-five more
but good for the wear of it and a price I could afford
with little over one hundred to spend, I had twenty more.
It had fruit trees, three apple, and berries, razz and blue,
lilies and rhubarb, St. johns, lilacs, milkweed and more
and if I could haul in some loam I’d have a veggie garden too.
Three bedrooms upstairs and a full bathroom as well
and another downstairs with two more rooms to spare
a den and one for gathering, why would they sell?
Oil to heat and wood to burn when the weather is out
and not one but three fireplaces, and an Elle,
whose structure is solid it could be of some use,
if I spent some money and I have extra to spend.
A barn and a building out back and one in between
and one built on the side and one built-on on the end
with running springs, and acres of land to walk
a country store with the city near and a school still small,
and neighbors that are near enough to talk
and far enough away to have to call.
Out of breath, the best house yet, someone made an offer, I’ll buy!
Three showings just today, on the market just one week.
a present for me, I’ll close on my birthday at the end of July.
Buying the farm, the beginning: age 30

From the blog
About the Author: Sarah B. Royal
Sarah B. Royal’s writing defies convention. Her poetry and prose traverse the boundaries between structure and spontaneity, often weaving together philosophical inquiry, cultural reflection, and personal narrative. With a background in experimental literature, she is known for crafting works that challenge readers to engage intellectually and emotionally.
Her acclaimed palindrome performance play, 777 – A Story of Idol Worship and Murder, showcases her fascination with mirrored storytelling and thematic symmetry. In o x ∞ = ♥: The Poet and The Mathematician, Royal explores the intersection of poetic intuition and mathematical logic, revealing a unique voice that is both analytical and lyrical.
Royal’s collections—such as Lost in the Lost and Found, Haiku For You, Lantern and Tanka Too, and the WoPoLi Chapbook Series—highlight her commitment to neurodivergent expression and poetic experimentation. Whether through childhood verse or contemporary fusion poetry, her work invites readers into a world where language is both a tool and a playground.
Sarah B. Royal continues to expand the possibilities of poetic form, offering readers a deeply personal yet universally resonant experience. Her writing is a testament to the power of creative risk, intellectual depth, and emotional authenticity.
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