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.