Country House Where I Was Born
Poem
The Country House
The country house where I was born
Had papered walls and windows worn
Wooden swings on porches bold,
Weathered to their dark gray soul
It did not scorn, it did not judge
But welcomed us from daily trudge
~ It was home
If this old country house could talk
And tell where silent spirits walked
Where laughter rang throughout the beams
Happy plans, broken dreams
A baby's gasp of life's first breath
A termbling writhing hand in death
~ Inside this home
This country house left memories
Of berry patches, cherry trees
Planting seeds in measured rows
Waking to a rooster's crow
Featherbeds, a fireplace
Daddy's strength, mama's face
~So many joys of home
This country house now left, undone
Weaned its children one by one
To spread their wings in worldly flight
Be lifted to their spiritual height
Aloft in truth above all strife
To know God's purpose for ther life
~Then, they are home
