The House that my Mother Built

The house that my mother built

Is warm and cozy on the inside

It invites you in with a door slightly ajar,

Just so much that you can sneak in if you try, but it’s not open to just anyone

Once you’re in the house it’s a little messy and untidy around

But you’ll feel at home amidst the fluffy pillows on the soft couch and misplaced tea mugs on the dining table.

Don’t let the welcoming feel fool you though, because even in the chaos there is a underlying strictness, and should you mess with the system, you will find yourself outside on the front step.

I’m standing out in the cold looking in. Wondering if I want to step in, or should I turn away and find a new house to enter…Maybe just five more minutes and if the smell of the freshly-baked cinnamon buns fill my nostrils, I might just dare step up and knock on the door.

No hard banging, just a slight knock knock and she might hear me.

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