My wooden oak floors once scattered your mismatched socks, now bare.

The decorative robes of pictures you hung on me, vanished.

I remember when this dull overgrown Earth, was my beautifully groomed lawn.

Everyday you move a box or pack me away, my hallowed walls stand confused.

Did we not mold you or shape the person you’ve become?

For I was your biggest fan when you sang to that old hairbrush.

For I was your greatest friend when you sat and wept over that silly boy.

For I was your fortress when all you wanted was to be alone.

Each season my weathered windows saw your growth.

I may be worn and aged, but every year has been filled will euphoria.

Dear sweet child o’ mine visit one last time

Sincerely, your childhood home