Daily writing prompt

Write about your dream home.

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From my beautiful flower garden,
you will see glowing arched windows appear on the second floor—
but inside, they are nowhere to be found.

You enter through heavy, hand-carved oak doors,
their iron hinges moaning like old violins…

And then—
the relaxing sounds of instruments from a distance.

No portraits.
No smiling frames.
There are no pictures of family or myself. None.

I honor people through memory, not display.
My clocks do not work.
Because in this dream home, time isn’t kept. It’s felt.

Inside, not every door you open will give you what you seek.
Some were made to look inviting…
but only lead you back to yourself.

This house shifts.
Some days, it’s a sun-drenched cottage in Portugal.
Other days, it’s a creaky roadside motel in the desert
with a good story and a bad lamp.
Sometimes, it’s a chapel.
Sometimes, it’s a dressing room with red velvet curtains
and a secret drawer full of old letters.

My dream home is not a structure.
It’s a storytelling spirit.
It rearranges itself with my mood, my memory, my music.

Because this is not a house.
It is me, on any given day.

This home does not tell stories through photographs.
It tells them through placement, pause, and poetry.

And if anyone ever asks where I am in all of this—
I just tell them:  I am the frame, not the photograph.