Home Is Not a House

That house that's down the road the shutters pealed from tears it's sorry looking roof regrets not being whole Inside the wind that blows is filled with bitter waste that smells like long lost love and tastes like cautious joy The stairs wind round the hearth and lead to rooms of despair while windows break from sorrow and doors hold back the shame The closets hide the truth and hallways shed the dark the basement bears the spirit while floor boards sink with fear In day the house does smolder from past and private pain at night the house goes cold in shadows laced with gloom From downstairs to the top floor from inside to the out it stands there, weak and lonely the house that's down the street