Home is where the heart is.

If I had a bed I wouldn't get out with a lazy roll; I'd jump straight out with a summersault. My house wouldn't have steps, it would have a rope ladder that you climb to get to the attic and a slide that takes you back down. There wouldn't be chairs either, we'd all just sit on the floor. I wouldn't sleep in a bed even if I had one because I'd rather sleep in someone's arms. The floorboards would creak and the doors squeak and the windowpanes would rattle on windy days. The only electricity would be in the air and candle wax would line the windowsill. We'd burn furniture in the fireplace and wear a hole sitting on the rug. And we'd paint the walls with the worlds of our imaginations. There would be no locks on the doors and a garden that surrounded the entire thing. And no love would ever be without a place to stay.