• This is house is often empty,
    devoid of any mice, or bugs, or life.
    Yet dust can never settle
    for it changes all the time

    This house is sparsely furnished,
    no couch, nor lamp, nor rug, nor chair,
    no cobwebs cling to windy sills
    to be blown about the air

    This house has no foundation,
    no attic, cellar, extra wings;
    Its single room holds nothing
    save a thousand golden rings

    This house can not be bought,
    yet it's been broken, stolen, saved and starved
    Its shingles dangle loosely:
    one for every single scar.

    Yet a woman still dwells inside,
    and swears it's the most beautiful place
    she's ever stayed.