My New Home

There is a door, wooden, old, and hanging off the henges
The walkway is rocky with patches of grassing struggling to get through
The fence surrounding the house is hanging on for dear life as it shelters the grounds
The windows are frosted from the cold breeze that teases it with each brush it gives
When the door opens it gives this creeking sound as if it has a limited time left before it lets go
Walking on the floor boards they sing with different levels of sound matching each step
There is dust on the light fixtures, so strong that it seems it was painted on
The sound of the emptiness is relaxing and calming though it cries for life
The kitchen vibrates from the life of others that lived there before
The refrigerator light flickers with the opening of the door
The air is dry yet it's cool and refreshing
The cabinets are sturdy and drenched with wallpaper dressing
The main bedroom is dark yet cozy and quaint
The closet in the room seems endless, dark, and dank
The light above the room barely sheds light into the room at all
As you open the blinds you are covered with the dust that begins to fall
Walking down the hallway you rub your hands against the walls to get a feel for the space
Looking into the smaller rooms your mind begins to race
What will I put here, how will I decorate that
The heat in the house is so strong that you remove your hat
At that time you feel as if you've been here before
The sounds that your ears gather begs you to explore
You walk out the back door and look over the house one more time
As you look at the roof you are blinded by the sun's shine
A connection has been formed and you feel like this is where you are meant to be
Though it needs work, your imagination still runs free
It feels right that you sign your name away and claim this space to roam
It might be a fixer upper, but it's still my new home