Warped by years of living,
A testament to will
Shaped by love, yet cracks abound
And hope it offers still
A sentimental journey
Of mortar, rock, and tree
Generations of identity
Have molded what makes me
Humble in its nature
Abounding not in space or size
Character and necessity,
Not pretension, is its prize
Surrounded by aging glory
The elders of the land
Like patriarchs they stand esteemed
These oaks time will withstand
All the golden times of joy
Like pictures on the wall
Has all been framed by this old house
When memory comes to call
But like an empty canvass
This old square structure stands
To capture strokes of future love
From grace's steady hands
Trey Long 10/2/2012
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