If

If my bones were made foundations,

My muscles made walls,

And my flesh made furniture,

My heart would be the hearth in these four walls.

If my tears salted the water,

My laughter rung the bell,

And my heartaches hung like wallpaper,

My memories would be the paintings on these four walls.

If my eyes could conjure paradise,

My lips speak sonnets of praise,

And my hands touch safe serenity,

My fingers would graze the whitewash of these four walls.

If my qualms could all be silenced,

My fears relinquished to hope,

And my doubts be long uninvited,

My happiness would know no strength like that of these four walls.

If you ask me to describe what home is,

What lies within a house,

I can tell you only one thing -

My house is made of me.