A house is built,

On a little village hill,

Life stands still there.

Everything is organised,

Neatly tucked into the order of life.

Nothing can be despised,

A house, nothing more to like.

A home is compacted,

Love and kindness overflowing,

Laughter echoes,

From the community brewing.

Everyone knows each other,

Safe space for all,

A spillage is a mistake,

A mess is an aftermath of fun.

A house is built,

To accommodate,

To live in,

But a spillage is scolded,

A mess is not forgiven.

A house is a place,

To sleep, to drink, to live,

To eat,

But a spillage is not a mistake,

And a mistake is fowl,

So the world stands still,

In fear of the shout.

A home is compacted,

With love and friendship,

Arguments happen,

But everyone recconnects,

It’s not just a place,

To sleep, to drink, to live to eat,

It’s a place you should want to be.

It’s a place of compfort,

Somewhere you call yours,

A barrier against the world.

A shield against what came before.

A home and house,

Not that different,

Youll see.

But the difference,

Is what you want it to be.