Going Home

This old house, once my home
Where Mother's laughter filled the air
And the hum of Dad's tractor could be heard.
While Grandpa and I sat on the porch in rocking chairs.
Standing now, old and gray
Though partially boarded, I could still peek
Through the darkness, could still barely see
Images of yesteryears that once filled this place.
Now amid shadows---no longer a trace.
Sunday meals, nights by the fire.
Talks on the porch into late night hours.
At night in my bed I'd thank God above
For giving me such blessings of love.
On the ground by the steps,
Where green grass should be
There was a sign, in the dirt, I wanted to see
A building that once had a white picket fence
Now had a sign that read, "Condemned."