House of Memories

A big back yard
with an old oak tree
bare spots under the swing
A long shady porch
with boards worn smooth
by many running feet.

Little ghosts play gleefully,
scampering up and down the hall
Their laughter fills my empty heart
with a happy sound,
This house
is where you are

I stand in the living room,
the scent of oak wood hangs in the air.
Pull back the curtain of time and
there you are
I see the glow of the Christmas tree
and the moonlight on the snow.

"You're too old, Daddy," they say,
"to stay here all alone.
We'll take care of you, give you a home."
But they don't understand.
How can I go, when you are here and
where you are is home.

Copyright 2008
Patsy Lewis