The wooden door that I used to knock
When I come running home from school
Is the very door that embraced me back
When life outside turned cruel.

The tall racks seemed a bit older
From ***** shoes which come and gone
The vases have turned decades colder
But didn't miss a lot of fun.

The tattered canvas painting
Survived countless humid nights
As our mutters echoed up the ceiling
That stopped when we turned off the lights.

The windows are clean but rusty
With the curtains that nimble still
Where I jumped around so carelessly
As I played Tarzan up the hill.

The lights have turned gloomy
But still have the warmth inside
Like what mom still shares with daddy
A true love that won't subside.

The kitchen sizzled endlessly
As we dine there day by day
The round table remained sturdy
Through the years we sit and pray.

There laid the old bicycle I rode
With my stubborn older brother
The puppets that have lively showed
By the hands of my elder sisters.

It seems I've flown years away
But my heart remained in here
Where it found the meaning to stay
With people I laughed and shed a tear.

A house can never be a home
Unless it is filled through seasons
With a love that grows in every loam
From the hearts that need no reasons.