My Old Home I passed you by the other day; Old house, it’s been more than a while-- My vision blurred; your time-worn front brought forth a tear, and then a smile. I know, we both have changed a bit; Long years have left their marks on us; Cracked is the drive where once I’d skipped while waiting for the late school bus. Now looking at your old facade, Your inside couldn’t have changed that much-- Except for carpets on the floor, Fresh layers of varnish, paint and such. My bedroom window still points north, The living room toward the west; The same bay windows in the front Reveals the coming of a guest. It’s been so nice to visit here, And I will always keep in mind those memories of old Fern Street And that dear house I’d left behind. |