This is my house full of scratches and dents.
Paths in the carpet and dust on the vents.
Bedroom tornadoes with old sheets as tents.
Showers with razors and foam.
Walls filled with pictures, some framed and some drawn.
Windows, once see-through, now darken the lawn.
Beds still unmade for the cats to sleep on.
Bookshelves hold knickknacks and tomes.
But why feels it hollow and empty of life?
Echoes, forlorn, cut like dull-bladed knife.
Ah, there's a car door, in the kids and the wife.
Now, not my house but my home.
Thank you for these contests. It's fun to have a topic to work off of and see what comes out.