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Here and there is a broken pane
Where the night wind creeps inside.
The front porch has fallen to ruin
With vines in possession there.
A shed is tumbled and strewn
And rubbish is everywhere.
Somehow it softens in moonlight
And my fancy wanders free.
That old house is more than a house
It once was home to me.
I can see a place by the window
Where firelight once played inside.
I can picture the porch as it used to be
And grounds so clean and wide.
Doors with well-oiledhinges
Let in our willing feet.
With everything in place as it should
And everything trim and neat.
I see it in mellowed reflection
Until years have changed it to be
A house with a memory; it’s more than a house
It once was home to me.
I’d give so much to live again
In that house when it was young.
Then it knew our laughter and tears,
With its memory only begun.
I was unwise to have left it, I know
All I got for my pains
Was a heap of things I thought worthwhile
And desire to be back again.
It might be made home again, who knows?
I watch the moonlight slant through a tree,
And know that old house was more than a house.
It once was home to me.
-Leo VanMeer
So not to be a total downer, but I'm tired of the Olympics. Can't even tell you which event this was. I just know we nabbed a bronze medal after one of the other Countries was eliminated. A little thing we like to call Sweet Justice here in the US of A! I loved me some Shaun White, but I'm ready for them to bring back some Biggest Loser. All these disgustingly fit people are bringing me down.