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A house perched On solid foundation Provides shelter for a generation. Homes aren't made of brittle bricks, Wanning woods or crumbling stones; You can't raze a well-built home. A divided house will not stand, A listing castle on shifting sands. The peaks, dales and family travails, At home are not abnormal, They're common and diurnal; Yet the undaunted home prevails. Your house comprises various rooms For eating, sleeping, and mundane routines. Homes furnish rooms with smiles and tears, And gatherings throughout your years, To be shared or on one's own, The choice is offered, You're not alone. Houses grow proud, though gratifying, With amenities truly satisfying. Homes swell with smells of love, The sounds of children snug above, A sense that all is safe and sure; This day has given more than enough. Houses get tidied, cleaned and aired, Decorated for special affairs; Homes are fingers, toes and hair, Hampers, dishes, and underwear. Its doors lead to who knows where. Doors to let you out; Doors to let me hear When you're back again; Welcoming your return. Homes fill us With memories Houses never will.
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Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
Your House and Home
A house perched On solid foundation Provides shelter for a generation. Homes aren't made of brittle bricks, Wanning woods or crumbling stones; You can't raze a well-built home. A divided house will not stand, A listing castle on shifting sands. The peaks, dales and family travails, At home are not abnormal, They're common and diurnal; Yet the undaunted home prevails. Your house comprises various rooms For eating, sleeping, and mundane routines. Homes furnish rooms with smiles and tears, And gatherings throughout your years, To be shared or on one's own, The choice is offered, You're not alone. Houses grow proud, though gratifying, With amenities truly satisfying. Homes swell with smells of love, The sounds of children snug above, A sense that all is safe and sure; This day has given more than enough. Houses get tidied, cleaned and aired, Decorated for special affairs; Homes are fingers, toes and hair, Hampers, dishes, and underwear. Its doors lead to who knows where. Doors to let you out; Doors to let me hear When you're back again; Welcoming your return. Homes fill us With memories Houses never will.
For my daughter's new house and home.
francie-lynch
Written by
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
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