I am an old home.
And when you blow
cause my bones to creak and settle,
You'll have made your presence known.
Leaving my once solid structure just that much flimsier.
And it seems that every dusty old trunk.
and moth eaten article of clothing
forgotten in my over-stuffed attic
are simply cluttered reminders of what once was.
While the fire in this well preserved hearth
reminds me more of your tentative brush on calmer days.
And though the warped glass in my dusty old panes
is quick to reflect your every storm,
It is just as quick to pick up on your gentle spring day
and present it back to you happily.
When cold days come
My siding may tremble under your touch
But even I know warmer days follow close behind
and everything will be set right.
So if you are the winds of change
I am an old home,
accustomed to your ways
and built to withstand you
