This Old House

In this house, I am swimming in a mud puddle, somedays with my arms tight around you We backstroke In my house there is dust settled overtop the daily cares swept aside in conversations as we laugh with grit In my house, old is being replaced new life is felt with each layer hammered, drilled, cut, painted over awakening new with each day In my house, I dreamed this planned and prayed for years thus and when the hand was given I reached boldly forward....