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Poem

Childhood days are only stories to my children they are told
I found myself traveling down the old country road.
Up and down hills around the bend there it stood.
Old country house empty and bare near the woods.
Held in my hands was the skeleton key.
Childhood days came to life as far as I could see.
A water pump then there was the cold stream.
In my mind I can hear laughter and childhood screams.
There was the barn where we worked and played.
Fond memories of our animals and how we played in the hay.
There it stood the oak tree, what memories it brings.
Lots of laughter and fights over that tire swing.
Faded paint showed years of time upon the house, the porch still had our rocking 
chair.
It was the place we gathered around to complain how life was unfair.
On the corner of the porch the soft wind blows the old wind chimes.
The sound brings a rush of feelings of all the golden times.
Kitchen window was half open, fresh baked goods were always in the window 
seal.
Homemade meals tasted so good back then it was everyday no big deal.
Stepped into the house I didn’t find it empty and bare.
I felt all the given warmth and love still there.
On the wall in the hallway is the old coat rack.
Thoughts of family creates emotions came rushing back.
Over there is the stairway, where I had my first kiss.
Amazing the family, friends and childhood days that are deeply missed.
It was here my first steps and my first heartbreak of tears.
This is the place of mixture of laughter and tears of childhood years.
To you it may be just an old house; this place has my heart and soul.
I will always call it my home; it will never be forgotten, as I grow old.

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