HOME AND LIVING

somewhere between the late-night calls
and the early morning showings
between the whispers of new beginnings
and the echoes of what once was
i learned—
a house is never just a house

it is the place where hands
paint nursery walls in hopeful strokes
where laughter rises with the morning sun
where love lingers in the doorframes

i have walked kitchens still warm
from generations of Sunday dinners
felt the ghosts of first steps in empty hallways
watched someone say goodbye to a home
that had become part of their bones

and yet—
for every tear that falls on a sold sign
there is a heart beating faster
a key turning in a lock for the first time
a dream settling into its rightful place

this is the work i do—
not just brick and contracts
but the delicate weaving of past and future
of letting go and beginning again

because a house is never just a house
and a realtor is never just a realtor
we are the keepers of stories
the hands that guide you home

****I decided to try my hand at AI poetry, and I have to say, I love it!!****