build me that Brown house with the chimney falling into the earth. i’ll treasure the reclaimed floorboards and salvaged bricks and we have parties here on our farm. i’ll string little lights from the tree branches and put fireflies in the mason jars from your grandmothers kitchen. on the 4th of july we’ll sing to brotherhood and on christmas we’ll build us a fire. in the summer we’ll watch the dust float in the sunlight to see where the wind is blowing. at night when we’re falling asleep in the thick wet air, i’ll think to when i was young in my room alone sticking to my sheets from the heavy summer air. i’ll think of how scared i was then of the past and the future, of things lost people dead. then i’d drift off out of the window into your heart knowing there’s no reason for fear.