deepundergroundpoetry.com
House on the hill
House on the hill
A Home is not just a home
There are stories in every floor board
Every wall holds secrets
My home lays a top a hill
If it could talk, it would tell you it is loved
For my home was a gift from a man who is now laid to rest
He walked the halls of my home daily and smoked his pipe on the porch
He adored his happy little house on the hill
And he adored me
He saw something in me that no one else did
He held my hand when I fell
Then he lifted me up and left me to stand tall and prove to all I am me
A fallen angel..
Not just a bad seed
A Home is not just a home
There are stories in every floor board
Every wall holds secrets
My home lays a top a hill
If it could talk, it would tell you it is loved
For my home was a gift from a man who is now laid to rest
He walked the halls of my home daily and smoked his pipe on the porch
He adored his happy little house on the hill
And he adored me
He saw something in me that no one else did
He held my hand when I fell
Then he lifted me up and left me to stand tall and prove to all I am me
A fallen angel..
Not just a bad seed
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