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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1169818
The Memories of my child hood home
The half paved driveway less than a mile long,
Takes you to the white house,
That was our home.
The front porch with the white railing still remains,
That’s where we sat when it rained.
There is a walkway shaped like a medal,
It signified the direction to enter.
The favorite was the back porch,
It was the closest to the kitchen.
The woodstoves were far from hidden,
These kept our butts warm during the winter.
Eileen’s room was the best,
Despite the fact,
It was colder then all the rest.
The white house was sold,
Awhile ago,
But to five kids and two grand kids,
It will always be our home!


Sunshine
10-19-06
a.k.a.: D.R.M.
© Copyright 2006 Sunshine (influencedbabe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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