
Two years ago, we moved into our “little house on the highway” or as I refer to it, the new, old house. The picture is not of our house, but one of Paul’s older paintings of a cottage in the north woods. The poem is not new either, but in commemoration of our 2nd year in it, I’m reposting it for your pleasure. It feels like an old shoe now – fitting us very well.
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
A house is just a dwelling place, a place to sleep and eat,
A set of rooms to roam about, to gather and to greet,
Each filled with lath and plaster, with paint and other things,
It soon becomes inhabited and that’s when life begins,
The walls could tell us stories of who these people were,
By things they said, the hugs and joys and words that would occur,
Of broken hearts, of emptiness, of loss and loneliness,
Of joyfulness and goals achieved, of peace and happiness,
It’s just a simple shelter made of brick or wood or stone,
But when a family lives there, it soon becomes a home.
ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©



















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