My memory of the one toy I never had.
When I played in the doll house I was never alone.
The doll house had a big family of it's very own.
A doll house was the last gift from my dad.
If your rich or if your poor ask and you'll receive.
This is the one toy I would never ask for more.
We came from a family that was very poor.
A gift from my dad ment the world to me.
The most perfect birthday gift I ever got.
It was filled with furniture,curtains and all.
The doll house was big but the people were small.
We played with it more than with my dog spot.
It stayed in my mind all of the time even at night.
My friends thought that the doll house was the best.
Mom said"girls stop playing and give it a rest".
I hated to leave cause the doll house left my sight.
There's no other toy I played with so much.
When I grew older I put my doll house away.
My dad gave it to me and left us the next day.
It sit's here gathering dust and the grandkids
know not to touch.
Teresa Skyles
Entered in Linda-Marie's"TOYLAND"contest
My greatest Halloween was so many years ago.
We was the tin man the lion and I was the scarecrow.
We had so much fun walking up and down the streets.
Knocking on the doors and screeming trick or treat.
There was one house down the street that scared us all.
The man that lived there his name was Fred and was 7ft.tall.
As we walked toward the house we heard someone screem.
It was that scary man Fred saying OOOOO it's Halloween.
We took off running for our house as fast as we could run.
I got home and I had wet my pants that was one Halloween
that was no fun.
Teresa Skyles
Wrote for Paula Swanson's Halloween of years past contest.
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Capital Trail, Delaware
by June Ellen Smith
Workers came, chopped the front yard.
Made Capital Trail, Kirkwood Highway.
Lived there when I was six years young.
Trees galore, weeping willow I swong on.
Caught turtles, bugs and bats for pets.
Buttercups glowed under chins. Nests
Of bluish eggs, were not to touch them.
My father grew up in this house, then
Brought my brother. Then I was there.
Laid in the sun on chairs, picked ticks
Out of my hair. Some swelled to gray,
Full of blood, squished on dirt driveway.
Garage was down by long, picket fence.
Gram drove in her Cadillac, hence was
A wonderful place. Then when I was nine,
They moved the house to middle of city.
Bought smaller house, somewhat a pity.
With smaller yard, paved streets, school
Down the street. Dad remarried. We moved
To Tryon, N.C. Larger house than Gram's.
More land, more trees. Childhood memories.
The images plucked from a full soft drive like over blown berries
threatening to fall……blasted to the humus. Swing chains creak.
The high-backed, heart carved, chalk white, front porch swing sways;
to the kicking of your feet. Beside me, you sit in spankin’ new school clothes singing.
Together wrapped like pretzel dough, we warble, annoying the sparrows.
The bumble bee yellow and black stripped school bus is late.
The dreamy cottage bungalows’ screen porch perches like a tree house ledge
over the four story drop off. Hundred year old sentinel pines tower still above us,
limbs house hug. The occasional cone drop ricochets down the trunk
to a soft needle landing, and a bouncing roll before falling off the retaining wall
We own the world. King and Queen of the Mountain are we. I sing “Ducky Duddle” to you.
You laugh. All the joy in the world in such a small sound. Oh, how I loved to make you happy.
Two short years before, even your name was new to you..my boy, Jamie.
Memories of childhood
In the house that you once stood
Saying good bye when you were eighteen
Both a sad and joyful memory
To drive by and remember the times
That you thought were great
Everything that reminds
You of your childhood days
I'm not out of the house yet but I'm sure going to miss them when i leave.........
WÖLF