A House I Once Knew
      There are mars on the doors and walls,
      Its rooms are empty and wide;
      Here and there is a broken pane,
      Where the night wind creeps inside.
      The front porch has fallen to ruin,
      And vines in possession there;
      A shed is tumbled and strewn,
      And rubbish is everywhere.
      Somehow it softens in moonlight,
      And my fancy wanders free;
      That old house is more than a house,
      It once was home to me.
      I can see a place by the window,
      Where firelight once played inside;
      I can picture the porch as it used to be,
      And grounds so clean and wide.
      Doors with well-oiled hinges,
      Let in our willing feet;
      With everything in place as it should,
      And everything trim and neat.
      I see it in mellowed reflection,
      Until years have changed it to be;
      A house with a memory; it's more than a house,
      It once was home to me.
      I'd give so much to live again,
      Like that house when I was young;
      I knew only laughter and tears,
      When my memory only begun.
      I was unwise to have strayed, I know,
      All I got for my pains;
      Was a heap of things I thought worthwhile,
      But now desire to be back again.
      Now I tremble at shadows, my fears are real,
      And I long for the chance to try once more;
      And know that old house was more than a house,
      But for me, it will be no more.

      ~by Leo VanMeer~
      Visit Leo's home page at:
Have a great day!
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