Remembering Erie...

The house wasn't much to look at, Although it was grand in its day. But we never got tired of visiting, Or seeing the family on Sunday. The floors were old and creaky, The walls were strong and tall. The yard was ever the smallest, Yet, we still found a way to play ball. The clock in the kitchen kept pendulum time, Its gentle gongs...as the hours were to go. The louder sounds of plinking from the front room, As we toyed with the keys of the old piano. The sweet aromas from the bakery next door, Wafter over us in the air. Always reminding one of that pleasant place, Filled with cakes and cookies and eclairs. We didn't understand the words, That our Grandparents often were to say. The polish banter among our parents, The adults kept their secrets from us that way. Our Moms were helping Grandma in the kitchen, Our Dads on the porch playing cards. We ran our own little games outside, More noise and laughter from the yard. Only the memories now remain. And sometimes after a day of aching hands and weary feet, My mind turns to those happy childhood days, As I remember the times spent...on Erie Street.