Almost Home
The locks and the doors have been changed.
And the furniture's been rearranged.
The tone on the walls somewhat dimmer.
But soothingly shine with a glimmer.
Removing the dirt and the grime.
That cant help but build up with time.
It's so nice to refresh what's turned old.
Before everything just turns to mold.
A house is only a house.
When it's walls are as quiet as a mouse.
You can make it the theme of your poem.
Clean and fresh, but never quite home.
Why do some people live without love?
Did they forget there's someone above?
That is ready to fulfill their dreams.
And make their home all that it seems.
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