The Architecture of a Hug

Home The one place you will always be surrounded by those who love you. A place of feeling or belonging. Home is a feeling, a place of belonging , The end of a journey, the cure for a longing. It's not just a roof or the height of a wall, Or the shadows that stretch down a creaking old hall. It’s the star- shaped stickers that glow on the ceiling, The piano, the drum kit, the sense of a feeling. It’s the chair piled with clothes and the drawers full of jeans, The secrets we hide behind tall mirror screens. There are hooks for the bags and shelves for books, The messages pinned in the loneliest nooks. There are trophies and make-up on each windowsill, And a box of old ponies where time has stood still. The blinds may be hanging and “holding for life,” But inside these walls there is rest from the strife. Though the hinges are rusted on the wardrobe and door, There is light in the crack that spills onto the floor. A house is a building of wood and of stone, But home is a place where you are truly known. It's the warmth of a hug and a breath of fresh air, The safety of knowing that someone is there. From the moment you enter, the world fades away, And the tension is gone at the end of the day. For a house is a shell where we happen to start, But home is the place where we cherish the heart. And because every heart needs a place to be free, A home should be built for each family. For when we have walls that are steady and true, The world becomes brighter for me and you.