The Drawn House

Her crayon strokes spill with glee,

a bright blue house on paper, you see.

A triangle roof, wobbly lines,

each corner a memory, every angle shines.

Windows like eyes, so full of light,

a simple drawing, yet feels so right.

I watch her create this safe little space,

a home wrapped in joy, a bright, warm embrace.

It’s a world where the heart’s free to roam,

where every line speaks of love and of home.

I remember those days when the sky felt wide,

when houses were simple, and dreams were inside.