My childhood home

My old home was a marvellous place
where fantasies grew on a daily base
Old it was, some threehundred years
And when I left I shedded some tears

The hall was deep and two arms wide
With very large rooms on either side
The ceilings were some two man high
sculpture around that made you sigh

Not a bathroom and no water running
Yes at first that was quite stunning
The kitchen was an enormous room
Special closets for bacon and broom

Floors covered with blackwhite tiles
As I remember we slided some miles
Originally two houses made one home
Quite enough space for us to roam

Two cellars vaulted arches of stones
We always searched for hidden bones
Two attics with balks as big as trees
And so much dust we had to sneeze

At last we got some modern comfort
Just a shower we did need no more
woodstoves kept us warm and glowing
As Autumnstorms outside were blowing

The central heat well we never got that
So with sharp frost I frooze in my bed
My father said the house doesn't like it
At that he was right I have to admit

In the big appletree I usually eat lunch
Lots of flowers for each day a bunch
A big church at the back of the yard
My mother said God's closeby to guard

[This message has been edited by Titia Geertman (edited 06-15-2001).]

Enjoyed...no air con in my childhood house either..ha...nicely written..

                  ~Victoria~

Every child is an artist. The challenge is to remain an artist once he grows up.

                                            Pablo Picasso