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