Did you look at it the same as me? 

Did you see it as a hurricane, tornado, robbery

or a group taking over the town in which this house was layed? 

Did you see it as the ruins of someone losing their Juliet 

or a retreat because they are wanted for a crime they did not commit? 

Or just because it appears spoiled, we only see tragedies?

How about something that was once ravish and grand?

Did you see it as a splendid home to begin 

or a palace that was once filled with luxuries?

Did you see it as a place that formerly felt like freedom

or tranquility like the river behind without ripples? 

How many wonders can there be that will never be known? 

This will not be an unknown wonder, for I can tell you that. 

This was my home, sanctuary. Just my daughter and me, but only for a year. 

Her father left for war before she was born, 

and returning home to an unknown baby, destroyed it all. 

As soon as the shatters of cups and bowls started,

I grabbed her and hurtled out the second floor window and just ran. 

He passed away from the liquor, but I can’t bring myself to go back now. 

I see it differently each time too after, . . . 

after we left and each time I look back.