Visions
Our Old House
Through this front door
I happily came home,
from school,
from summer camp,
from a hundred other events.
Trough this door
my father marched
bravely off to war
never to return.
Through this door
I led my aging mother,
taking her to a nursing home.
Empty of all furnishings,
sold to strangers,
I walked through
I happily came home,
from school,
from summer camp,
from a hundred other events.
Trough this door
my father marched
bravely off to war
never to return.
Through this door
I led my aging mother,
taking her to a nursing home.
Empty of all furnishings,
sold to strangers,
I walked through
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Our Old House
Our Old House