They say,
"Home is where the heart is,"
but there is no heart
if no one lives within.
The yard lies bare
like a policeman
stereotypically profiling.
The older son,
(Problem)
involved with the wrong crowd
– or so they say.
The doorstep lies naked
with no welcome mat
to accompany it.
The older daughter,
(Problem)
excommunicated for the fornication
of her child
– out of wedlock.
The living room is no longer lively
with sounds of joyous play
like rigged slot machines
at a casino.
The husband,
(Problem)
a gambling addiction
that left his family
without a home.
The dining room
no longer counts down for meals
like a child's sudden realization
of Santa Claus' true existence.
The younger son,
(Problem)
suffers from dementia
brought on by the suicide of the father.
He waits his days out in an asylum.
The kitchen holds no dish
like a dining customer
awaiting his waiter.
The younger daughter,
(Problem)
cries her heart out
and hopes for the healing
of her family's wounds.
The bathrooms hold no stains
like a pure, white cloth
flailing through the wind.
The wife,
(Problem)
like her husband,
has given up entirely
and has known only
to surrendering
to the needs
of her husband
– only.
The bedrooms lie vacant
like one's heart
after heartbreak.
The family,
(Problem)
has not only given up individually,
but also
as a whole.
They say,
"Home is where the heart is,"
but there is no heart
if no one lives within.