A broken home

"Houses are made of wood and stone, but only love can make a home." -Anonymous

Like typical seasonal clichés
Their love had its midsummer’s day
And there it seemed this place was so much more than just a place
But was the healthy, happy smile
Simply an act of denial?
Their marriage nothing more than an extended, indulgent embrace
As winter descended, the frost and cold,
The winter of their unity did unfold,
Or rather revealed itself in menace, a putrid flower to bloom
The emptiness between my parents surfaced
Fought to the front to a malicious purpose
To divide our broken home, distance worn out bride from bitter groom
As a lonely onlooker I did stand
While the rings placed on either hand
Fell down in flames from skeletal fingers, nothing but tarnished metal
And as they parted in between
Lay me at the centre of this scene
Holding their rose of love, now a weed with rotten, burning petals
And the walls around me they did shake
The ceiling cracked, the earth did quake
And all the while we stood there, broken marriage makes a broken home
For houses are made of wood and stone
But only love can make a home
This place now nothing but a place, no family, each of us alone