Home

A decrepit abode, standing alone

Guarded by dark, sullen trees

All is still, delightfully tranquil

As sunlight filters through leaves

Colorful flowers, like moss on old towers

Weave toward the jagged rooftop

As I look at this place, tales meet my gaze

To which I lose a fragile teardrop

Way back when, this place was lived in

T’was full of light, laughter and love

Windows were opened, sunshine poured in

For someone, this house was enough

It was the birthplace of dreams, of precious mem’ries

Which they clung to when they felt alone

This place lacked nothing, it held everything

For someone, this house was Home

-Melissa Lynne Moody