Edna Carroll Poet Rhyme

My Old Home

Driving slowly on Rum Gully Road, 
 memories start tumbling down. 
 I'm going to my childhood home~~ 
 to that hallowed ground. 

 I'm walking down a leaf-covered path~ 
 I see that gentle bend ahead. 
 I marvel at my moss-laden oak trees 
 and sadness~at Moma's flower bed~ 

 Now I'm out back to the deserted garden, 
 past the barn and onto the fields. 
 Nature still shows her beauty 
 even without the harvest yield. 

 It is so quiet now, but the voices 
 from the past sounds clear. 
 I hear Mom loudly calling, 
 "Come in for supper, you hear?" 

 My mind returns to the present. 
 I want My Daddy and Mom. 
 I know I will see them~ 
 I hope it won't be long. 

 I know there is a Special place. 
 We will eat supper again~~ 
 No need for memories 
 when God conquers all sin.

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