My friend's house is perfect,
they lead such perfect lives.
Curtains never out of place
and beds are made by 9.
The bathroom is in cream,
the toilet seat stays down.
There's tiny little ornaments
and soap balls all around.
My friend's house is perfect,
you dare not move a thing
for if you did they'd notice,
a tad embarrassing.
They dine at 6, no later
and then at half past eight
they have a cup of Earl Grey
and slithers of cream cake.
They talk of trivial matters,
the world evaporates.
Inside their house its perfect,
the world outside can wait.
That's why I run for cover,
right back here, alone.
It may not be quite perfect
but there's no place like home.
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-place-like-home-12/