House vs. Home

In an old photo, the sun lights the stairs,

a half-closed door casts long shadows of gold.

It’s just walls and windows, but I see the cares

of laughter that linger, of stories retold.

I pull at the memories, peel back the years,

the carpet, a tapestry of all that we shared.

Those echoes of voices still bring me to tears,

a home isn’t structure; it’s love, stripped and bared.

I stumbled on laughter and heartache combined,

the laughter of childhood, its shadows once shone.

A house can hold bodies, but love’s what binds,

as rooms turn to spaces, a heart now alone.