I don't see the love, do you?
It's probably invisible or something.
A house has a couple of walls,
Sometimes stands really tall,
And hopefully has high ceilings so you don't have to crawl.
A house has at least one room,
And maybe a window to fight the gloom,
So it doesn't feel like a tomb.
But I shouldn't assume.
A house has lovely people,
And maybe a peephole,
From which you can stair at the townspeople.
A house is hopefully filled with joy,
And maybe some stuff and a toy.
And a kitty who likes to play coy.
A house is a home when you're no longer alone,
Whether it be cat, or dog, or picture of frog on a log,
You feel at peace, serene, like you never want to be mean.
And that's it, that's home.