Once it was a home, In a long ago, by-gone day, Filled with joy and laughter, And children who loved to play. I can almost see the mother, As she hangs the clothes to dry, Beneath the sweltering heat, Of a scorching summer sky. While down at the barn, The men are baling hay, Laying up supplies, For the winter cold and gray. And if I listen closely, I'm sure that I can hear.... The voices of the family, That long ago dwelled here. But, now the fields are overgrown, The old house is falling down. Where laughter and voices once echoed, There's not a single sound. Passing years have taken their toll, The family has long been gone.... The old homeplace stands silent and empty, Many years have passed, since it was called a home. I'd wish I'd known the family, Who once dwelled in this old place, I'm sure I'd be surprised By their courage, strength, and grace. The old homeplace holds the secrets, Of all that happened here, But, with the blowing winds of time, All the hidden secrets, forever disappear. ©Carrie Robison June 1, 2003 Used With Permission All Rights Reserved By Author Website Mail

Photo by Birgitta's Graphics

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