House

The house that’s for the living, oh so warm and oh so nice,

a little space for dwelling, that holds back the frozen ice,

the quiet world of wonder that can keep a soul from harm;

it’s sacred space for dreaming that can give to life its charm.

A million smells and memories flood in the home and shine,

it’s so much more than walls and glass that in a house combine.

There’s love and laughter echoing through all the space we share,

and something gives us courage, so we’re not afraid to care.

See the houseplants growing, smell the coffee as it brews,

hear all the children laughing, feel your feet kept warm in shoes.

Watch the sunset through the window all in pink and fading light,

and feel so very cozy even through the cold of night.

The comfy chairs and sofas and the walls all lined with frames,

the shelves so stuffed with books and all the closets full of games,

the mirror in the hallway and the coat-rack with the hats,

all sitting there so patient with the little baseball bats.

See the drawers, so snug and shut, see all the beds made tight,

see the creaky bathroom door, although it doesn’t hang quite right.

See all the rooms together, feel their quiet bit of calm;

if life is hard and anxious, it’s the home that is the balm.

This place that’s full of memory and turning of the years,

that’s here through all variety and all the aches and tears,

it’s something real in memory and making of a home,

and something that we have or would, so not to feel alone.