Growing flower vines on the side of this empty house
It's been quite some time since I have seen this door
Since I have laid on this barren floor, it's so strange seeing that carpets face replaced
Feeling the ice of this hardwood floor
How nice it is to miss those memories.
Do you remember when we all laid out, making beds out of blankets because there was no room for us all
And yet we did not fit any other way, finding ways all over one another
Then someone would wake up with ranch on their face
Sleep over rules, my dear. The first to fall gets the joke after all.
No one has tended to the flowers in a while but whos to say there has been anyone to take that place.
Remember when this used to be so colorful and over there we would scream our lungs out
Convince me that I could learn how to sing and now you wouldn't even hear my voice.
Yet this garden is so pretty.
Raining days would fill the fountains water edge and arise would come the cute babies of those flying bugs.
We confused them for tadpoles more days that not. How relaxing of a time those days were
Worrisome worries having no existence in that time of mind, at least in those moments.
I skipped quite a bit, like how with some silky pants you could go zooming down the stairs being lucky enough not to fall too hard.
The stairs were carpeted but those floors were not.
What memories safe place, where one thought she died and cried and screamed
And now it is nothing but a childish memory.
This house smells old, but still like home.
It's about time that I find home isn't it? With it's own pretty garden and this time my neighbors can hear something beautiful as we would sit outside and serenade the sky.
The flowers would bloom with such variety, colors everywhere!
My children would make explosions coming up and down the stairs, forgetting that walking exist
Sliding down staircases just like we did.
Create happier memories for the future that the past didn't have.
Perhaps this is learning to let go, forget all that no longer serves this body
No longer serves this mind, it's just taking up space. I would rather just cry, let the sea of dams release and find myself beneath the rivers sea.
Happiness sprouts from seeds and I am but a thousand flowers trying to grow at the same time
But all these different parts need different things, different soil, water and sunlight
Maybe that is why I feel such butterflies around you and that smiles of yours
Oh, how they go crazy, making a mess of my insides
How did pollen get in my nose ? I'm allergic
Mirror appreciation shows change, from the days where those bags are so heavy
To where it seems like the glow has followed it's morning flow.
There is something to this growth.
Remember painting on the coffee table, so much art lost over the years of an overly educated child
Playing dumb to the world for strategy.
We do not "perfect" so it is right but to express accurately, to be frank this is the last place I want advice.