My Home

There once was a house. It was beautiful.
I'm not saying it no longer exists. I just don't live there anymore.
"But why?" You ask.
Just sit down.

Relax.

And let me tell you about my home.

My home was quite small. Nothing a millionaire would live in.
I don't own the house. Another family does.
They found me on the sidewalk.
Well, the OTHER me.

But even I can remember...

A place I called home.

The children loved me.
The mother was skeptical, but she invited me with open arms.
The father rarely visited. He liked me the least.
But how do I know that?
I know that because…

Somewhere, in my mind, I know...

That I had a home.

Then they came along.
They had good intentions. I've been cooperative with them since.

But even they will never know...

That they took me from my home.