MORE THAN A MEMORY

I sit on the front porch steps, looking down the winding road.
The cattle have all been sold, and the fields are overgrown,
The summer breeze stirs a memory of how things used to be
When this house belonged to us, and was filled with family...

But the doors now lock me out, and I do not have a key,
There's nothing that I can do; this is just how it must be.
Somehow I always thought that time would pass us by, but no--
The winds of change swept through our lives, and now we have to go.

    But it will be more than a memory,
    It will be more than a sweet remembrance--
    It's part of who we are and who we've been.
    It will be more than a faded photograph,
    More than a tale to tell the children
    Who will not "remember when...."

The well is now nailed shut; it's pure water's underground,
The river still must flow, but it does not make a sound.
Some things are clearer when our hearts--
And not our eyes--perceive,
And this final visit focuses on what we have to leave:

        Nearly a century of living and dying;
        Nearly a century of laughing and crying
        Of birthing and burying
        And parting and marrying
        And loving...
        And loving.....

I sit on the front porch steps, looking down the winding road,
I will not come again, and it's time for me to go.

    But it's got to be more than a memory,
    It's got to be more than a sweet remembrance--
    It's part of who I am and who I've been!
    It's got to be more than a faded photograph,
    More than a tale to tell my children
    Who will not remember when

    It was our home....

©SBK 1991



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