The House
I used to live in a beautiful house
Where the walls were strong and the beds were soft.
The paintwork warmed the eye
And the clock's ticking serenaded a gentle lullaby.
The bedrooms, though were not that grand,
Provided comfort like a mother's tender hands.
And the clean water flowed from its faucets
Carried with it the soothing murmurs of a sentimental poet.
Fresh, nutritious fruits and vegetables
From its little garden were always available,
And the yard was adorned with grass so smooth and flowers adorable.
And the land on which this house stood
Was also lush and verdant,
A place where weariness was alleviated
And the air of peace and solace circulated.
And the bridge that connected the land to the outside world
I rarely used, for the satisfaction with which the house graced me
Rendered me to not want to seek another adventure.
And I called this house — and also the land — home
For they gave me everything I had ever dreamt of.
Until one day I left and destroyed the bridge...
I used to live in a beautiful house
Where the walls were strong and the beds were soft.
The paintwork warmed the eye
And the clock's ticking serenaded a gentle lullaby.
The bedrooms, though were not that grand,
Provided comfort like a mother's tender hands.
And the clean water flowed from its faucets
Carried with it the soothing murmurs of a sentimental poet.
Fresh, nutritious fruits and vegetables
From its little garden were always available,
And the yard was adorned with grass so smooth and flowers adorable.
And the land on which this house stood
Was also lush and verdant,
A place where weariness was alleviated
And the air of peace and solace circulated.
And the bridge that connected the land to the outside world
I rarely used, for the satisfaction with which the house graced me
Rendered me to not want to seek another adventure.
And I called this house — and also the land — home
For they gave me everything I had ever dreamt of.
Until one day I left and destroyed the bridge...