~ Thoughts From an Old House ~

What makes a place so good,
To feel the breeze on different shoulders.
Under the backyard tree we stood,
Reminded of memories so often looked over.

The smell of the mill,
And the sound in the air,
Of laughter forgotten,
And dreams to be spared.

Looking up at a house,
That's smaller than most.
Though it didn't seem always,
To look such a ghost.

No pain here,
No hurtful mishap.
No malice or guilt,
Or bad thoughts still trapped.

In place of these joy,
Excitement and love.
And things from long ago,
Not often thought of.

Such memories there were,
Of young and of old.
Truths were sought after,
And stories were told.

Some stories funny, some stupid,
Some no meaning at all.
Some good just to look back on,
And be proud and stand tall.

For these things are what counts,
What's good and what's real.
These so often sought after,
These cards life rarely deals.

These feelings take shape,
As they did that day.
In the form of that one thing,
That is sometimes put away.

In great numbers or small,
Made from rich or from less,
When family is 'round,
You'll want nothing less.