This is a poem by one of the most talented persons I have ever heard of.
And it's kind of hitting...
The Difference Between Houses And Homes
There once were some orphans with raggedy voices
They'd clang pots and pans to the queerest of noises
In cold, paper houses they'd sing up a storm
But the walls were too thin to keep the house warm
'Twas the coldest of midwest winters, you see
The rumors were whispering, 'the coldest in history!'
Oh, orphans poor orphans! What would they do
If their houses should ever catch wind of such news?
And wouldn't you know it, that very same day,
Old man winter blew their houses away
The orphans were scattered 'cross valley and heather
A rumor had heard they were lost... FOREVER!
Two, I've been told, were sipping from flowers
Just moments before the zero hour
'Twas an ambulance chase when some were last seen
(Or so I was told, and so, I believe)
Others were caught in blizzards so blurry
They blew far away in a flourish of flurries
One was once seen with a small, brown bicycle
Leant up 'gainst a house to gather up icicles
As he broke of a piece that house tumbled down!
Now, everyones frantic - (the bike wasn't found)
That house, oh that house! It wasn't a home
But the boy's not to blame, no, he didn't know
Who knows the difference between houses and homes?
One feels like family... one feels alone
So, the townfolk all gathered that first thaw of spring
They missed these poor orphans and the queer songs they'd sing
"Poor orphans abandond!" A young mother cried
"We must search for these orphans!" So they searched far and wide
The two sipping dew were easy to find
In Manhatten haunts they wined and they dined
An ambulance driver reported the news
Of orphans that screamed their prayers from the pews
And those caught in the blizzard, will their story be told?
They were found safe and sound at the cold North Pole
By ones and by twos, by threes and by fours
The orphans returned to wide open doors
Oh, poor, lonely orphans left out on your own
Together, at last, in a safe, warm home
And that boy with the bike, well, he's okay too
He knocks off the icicles that hang from the roof
So, who knows the difference between houses and homes?
When you're lost and you're found... that's when you'll know
(a poem by Tim Kasher)
I still have yet to be found
And it's kind of hitting...
The Difference Between Houses And Homes
There once were some orphans with raggedy voices
They'd clang pots and pans to the queerest of noises
In cold, paper houses they'd sing up a storm
But the walls were too thin to keep the house warm
'Twas the coldest of midwest winters, you see
The rumors were whispering, 'the coldest in history!'
Oh, orphans poor orphans! What would they do
If their houses should ever catch wind of such news?
And wouldn't you know it, that very same day,
Old man winter blew their houses away
The orphans were scattered 'cross valley and heather
A rumor had heard they were lost... FOREVER!
Two, I've been told, were sipping from flowers
Just moments before the zero hour
'Twas an ambulance chase when some were last seen
(Or so I was told, and so, I believe)
Others were caught in blizzards so blurry
They blew far away in a flourish of flurries
One was once seen with a small, brown bicycle
Leant up 'gainst a house to gather up icicles
As he broke of a piece that house tumbled down!
Now, everyones frantic - (the bike wasn't found)
That house, oh that house! It wasn't a home
But the boy's not to blame, no, he didn't know
Who knows the difference between houses and homes?
One feels like family... one feels alone
So, the townfolk all gathered that first thaw of spring
They missed these poor orphans and the queer songs they'd sing
"Poor orphans abandond!" A young mother cried
"We must search for these orphans!" So they searched far and wide
The two sipping dew were easy to find
In Manhatten haunts they wined and they dined
An ambulance driver reported the news
Of orphans that screamed their prayers from the pews
And those caught in the blizzard, will their story be told?
They were found safe and sound at the cold North Pole
By ones and by twos, by threes and by fours
The orphans returned to wide open doors
Oh, poor, lonely orphans left out on your own
Together, at last, in a safe, warm home
And that boy with the bike, well, he's okay too
He knocks off the icicles that hang from the roof
So, who knows the difference between houses and homes?
When you're lost and you're found... that's when you'll know
(a poem by Tim Kasher)
I still have yet to be found