Home

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.

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