In the gentle arms of time, it stands,
A house, a vessel of stories untold,
Within its walls, whispers of hands,
Crafting dreams in the twilight’s hold.

The floors creak with echoes of yore,
Footsteps of those who walked before,
Each corner, a witness to laughter and tears,
Holding the weight of countless years.

Windows framed with sunlight’s grace,
Casting shadows that dance and play,
Rooms that breathe in quiet embrace,
A sanctuary where hearts may stay.

In the evening’s hush, it softly sings,
Songs of love and life it brings,
A tapestry of moments, woven tight,
A house, a home, a beacon of light.