At the beginning of the school year, Dad told us all to write a poem which we would present to the family the following day after dinner. Well, I forgot to and quickly wrote down a few rhyming lines as Bannon, Abby, and Sophie presented their toiled over poems. Anyway, Mom found the poem in the back of her notebook today, so thought i'd share :)
The House.
The house on the hill is quite alone
far from any civilization
with pealing white paint under overgrown vines
it's hue a lonely tone.
But the house is quite happy
for it is filled with old memories
of the children who played in its walls.
love this. "of the children who played in its walls"... almost 40 years of childplay now in that home!
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