words that rhyme.
— I wrote this a while ago, when I was feeling all sad and alone in my home…
Home
home isn’t a place where you reside.
it’s not where your parents say the door is always open.
it’s not where your from, where you hang your jacket
or take off your boots.
it’s not where you recognize all the faces
and know all the secret places.
home isn’t where you crawl in to bed
and have a good nights rest.
you could be in a house on a hill…
with everyone you know…
and not know where home is.
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— This, I wrote about an old house in my back yard…
It doesn’t have a name…
the boards are old and weathered
and the floor is packed
the dirt it’ll tell you stories
of who’s been there and back
my friends and i, we’ve had some grand adventures
and the walls, they know them all
they have stories from all 4 seasons,
winter, spring, summer and fall
it’s leaked all kinds of snow and rain
and a ray or two of sun..
but it’s never let a secret slip
of our times of fun
