Together half a century ago,
When kiddies were mere tots,
We knew we’d found our place to grow,
Our “home fires burning” plot.
And up the street, across the brook
a woodsy path did beckon,
Through many years the treks we took
meant more than we would reckon.
With kids and grandkids we’d return,
And while en route we’d teach
that peace is just mere steps away,
A treasure in our reach.
As seasons come and seasons fly,
And leaves, once green, turn gold,
We know while life is passing by
Our story’s being told.
Someday, long hence, our family boys
will sit by home fires burning,
And up the street, across the brook,
Remember all their learnings.
Writing 201: Poetry Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance