home.

a long time ago

on a lonely stretch of earth

with only the sun & moon to talk to

there was a plain, white house.

the foundation was cheap

with termites and wasps

existing as an exception

to what could even be called a house

a marvel of cracked brick and tired wood.

rusted pipes and door hinges

moaned with each gust of air

the dissonance of alone

drowning out

the cricket’s call to arms.

but even through the broken glass

staining the knots

of each rotted floorboard

was a little light

that burned brighter than any star.

and suddenly

the wood breathed anew

upon the polished metal pipes

and the door hinges sang hymns

through each reborn window

glass stained with her.

not so long ago

on a beautiful plot of earth

kissed awake by the sunrise

tucked in by the moonlight

there was an elegant, white house

one that you called home.