A Building

There always could be somewhere else, I guess;
Another place, or even this post-change
But still I fear you never could arrange
To make me feel at home there. You could bless
Another house, and import my whole mess,
Taking careful care to disarrange
Each piece of paper; still it would estrange
Me from myself despite your artfulness
For in this place I have accumulated
Such memories, and such a sense of home
That nothing can replace them 'til I build
Brick by mental brick another, weighted
With inner meaning, like a palindrome
Mirroring the sense with which it's filled.