Earth Is Your Home
Different colors, different ages
Young cherub babes and wiser sages
Houses with history, whispering walls
The ease of a garden, the spark that recalls
A smiling dog so thrilled with her treat
A floor made by a forest, trod by hundreds of feet
What is a home? Is it wood and some glass?
Windows that open both to future and past?
A home is a book, time worn and abraded
A text to tomorrow, a yesterday faded
A book unfolds pages of sorrow and glory
Our small lives are stitches, as we bind the story
Please tell me your thoughts about how a house and a home become a life! Thank you, Christyl Rivers