Gramma's House

To me it was a mansion,
I still see it in my dreams.
It was a big and white with a closed-in porch,
and love was bursting from it's seams.

It was built by Gramma's Daddy
a hundred years ago.
And I remember as a child,
it was my favorite place to go!

I'd slide down the banister,
and race down the halls.
I never stopped to notice,
paint was chipping off the walls.

There was a tractor in the back yard,
and a swing in the front tree.
There was a field that spread so far back
we'd use binoculars to see.

My cousins and I would meet there,
and off we would go to play.
Exploring all the history,
and learning on the way.

We once found old school books
belonging to our mothers.
We giggled when we read aloud
what was found between their covers.

We would dress in her old dresses,
for Gramma kept them all.
We would put on her fancy pill hats
then go strutting down the hall.

I loved my Gramma and her big old house
and I know they both loved me.
They both live on in heart and mind;
my childhood memory.