Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

That Little House

That little house
So cozy and warm
It wasn’t a palace
But it surely was home

I’d stand on the heater vent
Placed in the floor’s corner
Until my shoes’ rubber soles
Got warmer and warmer

Though the air could be chilly
There was still welcome comfort
A place of safe haven
From the world’s disorder

Of course, I remember
The times of great sadness
Of arguments, conflict
And even some madness

But because of that little house
I still like to dream
Of warmth and of closeness
With loved ones esteemed

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