What of the house that stands alone? Of boarded windows and brittled stone Falling apart where end meets end Time had not been gentle to it Had its purpose not been its friend? Had it been abandoned and been bemoaned? Had something in the attic been left to groan? Where the walls ache and the floorboards creak Does it not hold merit that you nor they would seek? In its very crevices had disdain grown? Was it always a house Or was it once called home? Was it constructed with only price in mind? Had it been simply made and simply bind, Yet the memories inside not so? Had its birth been oh so long ago? Was it a place to hold a loved one close? Would purpose and meaning stand aglow? Like the sunshine brushed against its bricks after the rain Was it once a place where mending would follow closely after pain? Had it been a place of warmth Or a place of laughter? Was it ever a place of Happy Holidays and warm morning afters? Was it a place where love was happily sewn? What of the house that stands alone?

~ Tae Tae Dreamz