Dont worry my son the sand will fill all the holes,
And you’ll build a house atop of which that you’ll call a home.
The walls they will creak,
And the halls will grow mold,
Outside the columns of red may fade and peel like an apple skin,
But her laugh will bring color that you’d lost years ago,
And in that sound a garden of flowers will grow,
Ones you never could have imagined alone.
The roots will dig deep and settle the sand,
It is here you’ll learn home is more than just land.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s