A Home Is More Than a House
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My first home was on a shady street,
It was a large old brick house with a porch;
Oh, the hours I spent on that porch playing,
There was a massive backyard with bright colors.
My mother loved to plant flowers of all kinds,
Father hung a swing for me beneath a bent tree;
I would sway with the wind in my hair all day,
In the summer we had a wading pool to cool off.
Our street was on a hill or so it seemed to me,
In reality, it was a slope but was fun for roller skates;
The hill ended in an emerald green park,
It had benches all around, and a beautiful still pond.
I loved to watch the swans and ducks drifting,
And would lie on the bank trying to catch baby frogs;
Often mother would make a picnic lunch,
Under the trees we were a real happy family.
At the top of the stairs was my lovely bedroom,
My bed covered with many dolls and teddy bears;
There were books shelves and a writing desk,
And I even had my own little balcony with flowers.
The kitchen was big, cozy and warm with smells,
I can still see mother and grandma cooking supper;
The house had tons of nooks and hiding places,
Fantastic for playing hide and seek with grandma.
And then it all came to a tragic, and sad end,
We went away for a weekend and when we returned;
Our home was burnt to the ground; nothing left,
We got a new home, but it was never the same to me.
_____________________
September 2, 2015
Verse
For the contest, A Childs First Home, sponsor, Verlena S. Walker
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2015
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