SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘childhood’

It Still Leads Home

Gray slabs of soapstone

line the pathway leading home

to the days gone by

Worn, whittled away

walked a million times over

keeping secrets safe

Sunken in the ground

cold stones absorb warm sunshine

as past comes to life


A Childhood Home Revisited

Once upon a time there was a grand estate

Built for the plant manager in that day

And through the years, as is one’s fate

The luster and prestige time wore away


The proper and regal style of Queen Anne

With three porches and gabled roof of slate

Gave way to hide and seek and kick the can

With various occupants from 1890 to date


Intricate carved mantles and floors of wood

Marble counters and bedroom window seats

All the years of growing up, bad and good

And everything in between that life repeats


Once a home to Doc and Skeleton Joe

With treasures hidden in attic walls

And stories no one will ever know

And spookiness of creaks and calls


Daffodil lined sidewalk made of soapstone

That scraped knees and absorbed tears

And many hours one sat there all alone

Spilling the secrets of private teenage years


A parented-fortress for those who lived inside

Iron guarded fortress for those who wanted in

For each generation, a new set of rules to abide

A place for living, loving, and laughter to begin


Just a building into a home people made

A place for a family to convene and rest

Little by little, the pieces begin to fade

No lilacs nor daffodils survived time’s test


Now a monument of memories childhood

A reflection of us forging through the years

And hanging on to values for which we stood

A collection of our blood, sweat, and tears

****This is my childhood home up until about age ten. I visited it as an adult. I must say things look quite different through an adults eyes…not nearly as such from the memory of a child. things no longer seemed as large or scary. I can can only wonder how much of my memory is real and how much is imagined.

Monday’s Poetry Potluck theme: “Fortresses, Buildings, and Monuments”


she washed the demons from

my soul with a single bar of ivory

soap and hung them out to dry

side by side

for all the world to see

they dripped to stiff lifeless forms

flapping in the breeze

ivory tasted better

than the sting

of a hickory switch

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