I always thought of her as a house.
Shelter from any danger;
Home for the weary traveler;
Warmth for those,
Who've been lost or cold for too long.

Her arms,
Like the walls of a house,
Keep me safe,
Sheltered and hidden
From eyes like stars.

Her words,
Like windows of a house
Make me see the world,
As if it is my own backyard.

Her smile,
Like a worn and patched roof
On a Victorian house,
Shields me from the worries of the world
That fall like cold rain.

She is strong.
Like that Victorian house
That has stood proudly
Through decades of wind and rain.

Like the walls
Of the age-old structure,
She has seen
And she has heard
Many things that give her wisdom.

Through generations,
She holds her family together,
She has rooms enough
For every person.

She is elegance.
And she is grace.
And she is that Glorious House.
And I will never,
Allow her to be knocked down.