The Homestead

By Judith Kroll 

 

I walked to the old homestead that sat upon the hill
The tire swing, the faded fence, gave me a bit of chill
memories flooded me as I walked thru the creaking door.
I saw the chipped linoleum and pictured nan cleaning that floor.
Wallpaper pieces clung for life and dusty images shown where pictures hung
the aroma of coffee and freshly baked pies, and the songs where life was sung.
I stooped to find an old skeleton key, and rubbed it 'tween finger and thumb
The tears were flowing now, as I stood frozen, numb..
My heart could feel the house become alive once more
the warmth, the laughter, and everyday hum could be felt deep down to my core.
The sweat stained railing,the worn down steps,the old stove waiting for wood,
the coat rack beckoning for granpa's hat, the spot where nan's apron stood.
Like a shadow now in my mind, I will tuck the memories deep
let life run its course, like a healing tear drop on the cheek
Let life run its course, like a healing tear drop on the cheek   ©Jun 25, 2007 Judith Kroll

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