A small house on the comer
sits, peaceful in it's old age, time worn,
weather strickened, yet peaceful.
Nine rooms, furnished with old,
yet comfortable furniture, which
fill the inside. This is where
laughter echoes and tears fall.
Smiles are seen in each countless
inch of memories collected by these
old time worn walls. My home,
my shelter, my comfort, my refuge from
the world, filled with love and hope and memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem