Echoes Of A Country Home

a path of dirt - weary and worn
a roosters cry in the early morn
a wooden fence - stretching a mile
a porch swing where they rested awhile

a barn painted white and red
filled with echoes of words once said
a mailbox green - leaning and bent
used to wait for greetings that were sent

a doghouse stands with holes in the side
where a playful mutt used to hide
rows of dirt fields where food once grew
'neathe a sun of yellow and a sky so blue

a huge old house - the paint cracked and peeling
stands empty now but its full of feeling
the hardwood floors, the stairs and walls
still contain echoes of voices and calls

the sound of running feet pounding the floor
folks at the supper table asking for more
a rocking chair squeaks in the dead of night
a window full of moonbeams - sprinkled in starlight

the people may forget but the rooms never will
they hold a legacy that Time can never kill
these are the remains of a country home
once filled with love - now it stands alone
listening to the memories it holds as bait
'till someone new comes along - it can only wait.

(written: June 15 - 1980)

by Cheryl Adair

Comments (2)

you've been down my road sounds like home
A nice look back at your earlier stuff!