426 MacDonald Street

a poem about my boyhood home and the memories we leave behind

Sometimes when I go back to my boyhood home

that I lived in once,so far away,

old memories knock at the door of my heart

leaving me speechless, with little to say

 

There sits my Grandfather Leo

and my Grandmother Maude too,

old friends & relatives come to call

being dead, they look good I'll tell you

 

They ask me how I've been

how I look like my Dad as well,

soon music and laughter fill the room

tea freely given, good to think for a spell

 

But soon one by one they fade from view

the house of Memories is alone with me,

my eyes fill with tears of loved ones now

wishing I held each tighter, yet what will be will be

 

I can only go back now in my mind

a lesson from my heart for you to know,

to cherish those whose hearts are yours

before all you have left is memories for your soul