Yellow House on Corner

Every morning, there it stands.
As I approach it, it makes light my embattled soul.
Unmoving, quiet in its splendor.
Whether the early skies are teemed with the haze of a rising sun or blanketed with the thickness of fog,
it is strong in its presence.  Unperturbed.  Unruffled.  Sure of itself.
At the end of this road and at the beginning of the other, its smile can be seen from all angles.
It is toothy.  It tells a story.  And a thousand more.

Yellow House on corner, you are painted well.