The house in the home

May 21, 2008
By
My home is like a letter with a name but no address.
Its history is plain.
Dirt on the ground, dew on the grass.
Not as free.
Worries everywhere, left and right.
“ Study, study”, imbedded in your head.
High, low, loud and soft barks nonstop.
Your room.
An escape.
But not really,
It’s still full of stress.
Mixed with covertness.
Even though..
It’s a place that’s called,
Home.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback