My Old Home
Oh, an old, old sight that somehow is still all the same,
it has not changed a bit since I last saw it when I was a girl.
It is the same- the Same!
It was my home- my Home!
It is the same, the Same-
It takes a lot of years and love to make a house a home,
and a lot of happiness and sadness to make a family.
It is the same- the Same!
It was my home- my Home!
It is the same, the Same-
The wind sighs in the trees and birds wail and shriek up above,
oh, to be beloved was all I needed and to love them back forever.
It is the same- the Same!
It was my home- my Home!
It is the same, the Same-
On that covered porch I played with my dolls making up stories,
then the gates of death closed on my beloved and left me alone.
It is the same- the Same!
It was my home- my Home!
It is the same- the Same-
___________________________
December 19, 2016
Poetry/Verse/My Old Home
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 859-454-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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