Poetry By Ken in Rainbow Colors




The old home don't look the same
And I'm saddened that I came,
Once gleaming white on the hill,
Now it's just a relic strangely still.

Roses still bloom by the door,
No one tends them anymore,
They're wild as birds that nest
On the porch once used for rest.

The door stands open to invite in,
Nothing enters but dusty wind,
Lacey curtains hang dirty and torn
Adding no grace to a place forlorn.

A chair still sits at the window
That looks over the meadow,
Sitting empty for years it waits
For someone to enter the gate.

Neath the clothesline out back
Are my mother's worn tracks
Where she hung clothes to dry
While singing that old lullaby.

Daddy's plow has rusted away
By a fallen barn that held hay,
He farmed from sunup to sunset,
I see him in the fields yet.

A tire swing sags from an oak
It's rope now rotted and broke,
We played under the ancient tree,
My brother, little sister and me.

If only I could turn back time,
Back to my childhood in mind
Of a home full of love and laughter,
If I could just stay there ever after.




©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 06-08-04

Song title: "Ain't It Funny How Time Slips Away"

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