To build four walls with concrete and bricks,
A shelter from the atmosphere, an escape from the world,
Watch it grow all the way from a house to a home.
To build a home with views and thoughts,
Like the plenty tiles on the floor,
Adorning the layout of the cemented house.
To build a home with unsaid words and heart breaks,
Like clothes on a chair in that one corner of your room,
Noticed yet unattended, existent yet denied of its existence.
To build a home with existential crises,
An attic in the house, the darkest of them all,
Formidable yet a necessity, hidden from the crowd.
To build a home with emotions and feelings,
The colours painted on the walls,
Some light, some vibrant, some textured for attention.
To build a home with metaphors and memories,
Every nook and corner of the house,
Yes, to provide a sneak peek of you.
To build a home with demons of fear,
The chandelier hanging on the ceiling,
Pessimism looming over your head.
To build a home with worries and doubts,
Locked in a walk-in wardrobe,
Only waiting for you to step in.
To build a home with promises,
That fade over time if not taken care of,
Akin to the curtains shadowing the wall.
To build a home with love,
Known to the toes in the depths of a blanket,
In the cold and cozy bedroom of the house.
To build a home with someone,
All raw and real, only to experience,
The journey from a house to a home.