A poem for my family.
1302
The big old house
Is gone now
Just like the neighborhood
It helped anchor
The first place I knew
How to call home
Now just dust, cinder
Smoke charred ash
And the memories made in it
But shouldn’t that be enough
Since walls don’t hear
Floors can’t talk
And you and I always
Always will
When we think about
The house on the corner
Of yesterday
And tomorrow
© Gayle Force Press 2003
The WhoDeannyPod 