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There is a house built out of hope. Bruises and cuts made from holding on tight to the rope where life happens to tug one way and we are trying the other but seems to be slipping from our hands like soap And although we tried our hardest we fell down the slope But learned to live. The house years later still stands, filled with what could have been and what is not where our memories of each other is blurry but forgot I dreamed about this a lot When will this house be worthy? will it be when I’m 30 or would yesterday be too early? I’m yearning for our “we will meet again” encounter but starting to worry please hurry I don’t know how much more I can keep going where does it stop ? when will there be an end to this journey? And everything suddenly stops our hands now dirty and the rope is cut no more pulling or tugging we are all we got. And it suddenly clicked this house is no house but a home where you are welcomed and cherished welcome home thank you for not forgetting