A two-story wooden house with a sharp-pointed roof
situated on a busy avenue.
In the backyard a pomegranate bush
hung over a small pond.
The front yard held a wonderful tree
great for climbing.
Into this house came a family of five.
Over the years the family grew to twelve
which required many changes.
The house became a home.
Though crowded the dwelling never seemed claustrophobic.
Constant activity throughout the days
melded into quiet nights.
Children mostly played in the vacant lot next door
Where an abandoned car became a chariot to faraway
Where tunnels were dug for hiding things,
exploring and discovering
Where paths were created for toy cars, trucks and trains
to travel on.
The Kitchen table was the center of life.
Meals were noisy times at which
Recitations of the day's events were told
Visitors were entertained
Homework was completed
Problems were resolved.
As the home and the family aged
The garage became a bungalow for the boys
Gardens were planted and harvested.
Who can forget the summer when Mom planted okra.
Over the years the children grew and moved away
Until only Dad and Mom remained.
Yet Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas
Brought children back for family gatherings.
At these times the home resounded with laughter and
Today the home stands empty
Crowded between a Baptist Church and a brown house.
Standing in the kitchen
One can almost hear echoes of the past
Vibrating from the walls.
No on visits now.
Soon it will be torn down to make room
for a parking lot.
Where will all those memories go?
--Mary P., Adult