They Have Torn Down My Parent's House

it was made of wood and brick.
The windows they removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers don't understand.
A house is made of family. My parent's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
They've been gone for not so many years, but I wanted this
house to live on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I mourn again,
because they have torn down my parent's
house, and it gives me pain. It was my house for many years.
My parents and sister died in it - I brought my children home to it.
I see us there all as if it were yesterday,
our laughter and tears in the rooms and up and down the hall.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They have torn down my parent's house,
it was made of wood and brick.
Yet a house is more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.