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
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....