Home-that blessed word that opens to the human heart
the most perfect glimpse of Heaven and helps
to carry it thither, as on an Angel's wings.
Lydia Child, 1843
This poem is for Mama
Welcome to Kacey's Corner
How fondly I remember this old house
And the happy days spent there
When after a long day, weary and tired
We'd sit in the wood rocking chairs
Everything was done by strict routine
the laundry was done on Monday
Ironing on Tuesday and cleaning on Thursday
and we'd all go to Church on Sunday
The curtains were starched as stiff as a board
and dust was nowhere to be found
We kids did our share though we complained a lot
but Mom just stood her ground!
My Mother was not one for luxurious things
From humble beginnings she came
Just hard work and faith carried her through
And each week was the same
On Saturday she'd dress us in our Sunday best
And take us "down the street"
With not one wrinkle in our clothes and neatly brushed hair
and "dressy" shoes upon our feet!
She cooked as good as the finest chef
Although the menu varied!
Where they would "cook up" fancy cuisine
Mom's cooking was just ordinary
Ah, but if you could have tasted
those fresh garden veggies
and corn piled high with rich butter
You'd turn down the finest restaurant meal
because her cooking was like no other!
Her pies had four inches of meringue
and her cakes were a sight to behold
You could die from the aroma of her homemade bread
and her pancakes were made of pure gold!
On snowy days in this old house
We'd go sleigh-riding down the hill
and Daddy built a fire from an old rubber tire
to ward off winter's chill
We'd fly like the wind, my brothers and I
We loved to "belly flop"
When we got too rambunctious, Mom would yell
and that would have to stop!
Going inside didn't matter to us
because Mom had hot chocolate ready
with homemade cookies and real whipped cream
ahh, the smell was positively heady!
The old house still stands and my memories are vivid
The door is forever closed
but I'd go back today if I had the chance
and I'd stay there in sweet repose
It's paint is all cracked and it's rafters are shaky
and it's porch is faded and worn
but I cherish my memories of this old-fashioned house
The house where I was born.
All rights reserved~~Kacey
The guestbook below is my fifth one.
I would appreciate your signature so I can
acknowledge your visit..and thank you!
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