My house

9 2 1
                                    

My house was a home

is was warm and needed me

I knew its every dent and tone

it was the place I was meant to be


My house was my safety net

it kept me safe from the storms

I didn't realise it was up for let

now I alone, am the one who mourns


My house was redecorated

change from what was my own

it was still "my house" I contemplated

but my house was no longer a home  

Poems of the privileged writerWhere stories live. Discover now