The Golden Street
The Golden Street
As I sit here all alone
And reflect on the home
My son invited me to share
And I readily agreed
This is where I want to be
With my son ,and grandsons
Living within a realm of love so rare
I recall my youth when
My Grandpa was my best friend
And he welcomed my Daddy and my Mom
There in his two room shanty
Where Mom gave birth to nine
And he expected nothing from anyone.
And Grandpa christened me
Irish lass. His Dad was born in Ireland
Way back then I can recall
Meals were few and salary small.
But I tasted wealth in the presence of Grand-dad
And I was told how Grandma moved away
After her first four were raised
She left Grandpa
And three young ones all alone
While she sought excitement
In Montreal, Quebec
Grandpa labored daily and spent nights
Void of warmth
Yet he never spoke of regret
And he loved her from his marriage to his grave
Grandpa took his responsibility
Seriously
Regardless of how his children turned out
Grandpa stood by them consistently
He accepted the negative
He praised the worth
Because Grandpa understood
He was responsible for giving them birth
And maybe I am old fashioned
But I believe Grandpa was right
If you bring a child into this world
You'd better treat them right
You had better be prepared to love them
In the good times as well as the bad
You had better be prepared to dry tears
To comfort them when they're sad
And if you fail to love them unconditionally
If you toss them away where doom they meet
Then you don't deserve them in the first place
And you don't deserve to walk The Golden Street
by Joan Donnelly Ellis April 14, 2016
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