The place i call home, <br />is silent and still, <br />empty and sad, <br />with rooms to fill, <br /> <br />The place i call home <br />is broken and worn, <br />with walls that are stained, <br />with a foundation that crumbles, <br />crumbles in the warm summer rain <br /> <br />The place i call home, <br />is small and worn, <br />icelated with no one around, <br />not by a city or town, <br /> <br />yet here i wait, <br />i wait for you, <br />who breaks the silence with a joke, <br />paints the walls with a coat, <br />who bring s life to this place once again, <br />fills the room with flowers and gifts, <br />i know your not a myth, <br /> <br />this place i call home, <br />where silence remains, <br />walls that are stained, <br />doors that are broke, <br /> with room to fill, <br />this place were i wait, <br />and wait just for you.<br /><br />Kayla Bakken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-place-i-call-home/
