Memories come crowding back
As I turn onto the road
Where many, many years ago
That old house was our home.
It was long ago remodeled
Yet somehow I still see
The same four rooms of weathered board
That were home to you and me.
See where our bikes wore out the grass
And made a path across the lawn;
Alas our days of riding bikes
Are now forever gone.
Look there’s the rough-poured concrete walk
That leads to the cracked step.
When we were gone for very long
On returning our hearts leapt.
Inside the long thin panes of glass
I see the fresh white net
That mother soaked in heavy starch
Then stretched on frames to set.
I know if I go in the door
The couch so tired and worn
Will be where it has always been
Since before we both were born.
Oh sister, can you smell the yeast
Of mother’s baking day
When she made that good white bread
In her own special way?
But now I’m blocking traffic
And it’s time to drive away
But I remember so much more
That I haven’t time to say
But I know that you remember too
And cherish as I do.
The place that we will both call “home”
Until all our years are through.