Down a Dirt Beaten Road
Down a dirt beaten road
There is a small house,
Where the children used to laugh
Play and run about.
The house is old and worn
It's growing moss on the sides,
There used to be a wooded area
Where the children used to hide.
Down a dirt beaten road
The children used to pick berries,
Flowers of many sorts
The children were so merry.
The house is empty now
It has been for quite a few years,
All the laughter is gone
Now, it's nothing, but tears.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Oct.24/2006
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