Ode to my home

my house is built on two pillars

painted in grey and dented on the sides

for frames to capture the good lost eaves

the other two are hidden behind walls of affection

and blood.

My house has many windows,

open to the sun

wide and breezy at night.

Flanked by trees, secure it tight

abundant beauty of all shades of green.

My house is small, only in size

for it lodges conflicts as deep as the ocean

and love warm a the lentils soup on a Friday evening.

sometimes the wind blows, and bundled

my house becomes a home.