House

I used to be a home, but now I'm just a house left all alone. One time, I had a beating heart; alive, with caring love, it shone. Abandoned, now I barely stand from long neglect and clime abuse; weak with a sunken roof and porch- no purpose now, no needed use. And so, I'm left without a heart- a semblance of what used to be. A house can only be a home when filled with love and harmony. My shattered windows now just stare, as seasons come and go each year, recalling happy days of old- when I was once a home, held dear.