Off-Limits

The couch is off-limits.
(Today it's a bridge.)
My feeling aren't hurt.
(Okay, maybe a smidge.)

For when Henry is building,
The world must concede
To the object and spaces
His projects might need.

He's lucky his house has
Some couches to spare
And if they're all bridges,
There's always a chair.

At least he's absorbed in
His "building" at home,
Which leaves me some moments
To whip up a poem.