My House

My house is loud like a family reunion, and filled with laughter.
Neighbors have complained.
My house is silent like a dark winter night: no words are spoken.
We are out of town.
My house is hardwood: solid and strong,
but creaks with feelings with every step.
My house is as vocal as a chorus.
The washer shrieks at the air conditioning and the drainage yells at the refrigerator, singing in unusual harmony.
My house is as cozy as a coffee shop: small and comfy.
No fireplace though.
My house is a townhouse; unable to stand on it’s own.
My house is cluttered like an antiques’ clearance section.
My house needs repairs like a pencil that needs sharpening.
When it rains, the gutters clog and water splatters off the sides, damaging, but not life threatening.
My house is the offspring of a hummingbird and a crow: happy and dull.
My house is full of people, life, and love, yet at the same time: empty.
I am my house.

-mariam

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