If I was any more flexible
I could bend over backwards
and touch the top of my head on the ground
If I was any more flexible
You could paint me green
and call me Gumby
If I was any more flexible
We could roll me up
And bounce me
If I was any more flexible
I would ooze into your wallboards
And watch your every action
Crossing over the threshold
creaks as loud as thunder
wallpaper peeling from years of old
like all of its memories of yonder
The wallboards and the floors
just bursting to tell
their many stories of yore
that only they knew too well
An old fireplace in its grandeur
with cracked bricks and holes
still has the same majestic hearth
heart of a loving home
Now leaning in sadness
empty and all alone
with loving care and tenderness
will again be a beautiful home
So as I strive to bring
its beauty back to life again
I can hear the old house sing
its proud song as it did once then
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