This house i once called home, I feel as if I can no longer call it that, its completely empty, every photographic memory, every book on a shelf, every alphabet letter that hung on the fridge, every piece of furniture that was strewn about, is now gone, packed and ready to be moved, the walls have been scrubbed and repainted, carpets have been torn up and replaced,It no longer looks like the place I called home, the atmosphere no longer feels the same, now void of the warm colors on the walls, void of a mothers touch, void of the feeling of welcome ness and love, every room now looks the same, from the color on the walls, to the carpet on the floors, I enter one and do not know what was there before, what room was this,Was it the living room, was it the dining room, I do not remember, for it looks just like the rest of this house, one room fades into the next, none with any hint of a difference, with any hint some one lived here,Though this house I once called home is now empty, the memories still linger here, the engery of them cling to the walls, begging me to stay, begging me not to leave and make new ones, memories of running down the halls, playing with my dolls, new loves and lost ones, the echo of a child's laughter, the smell of moms cooking filling the air, I smile at the memories and shed a tear, a car horn beeps out side, I run out and get in, we start to leave, forever leaving this house I once called home.