Hall of Memories

I know an old house.
The lawn deprived of nourishment.
The deep gashes in the walkway.
The dead roses, no longer do they bloom.

I know an old house.

The paint chipped doorway.
The welcome sign encased in rust.
The c-click, c-clack, tap of the old shutters.

I know an old house.
The screech of the door hinges,
A sudden pop in the floorboard as you lake your first step,
The scurrying scratch of the lone inhabitant, a rat.

I know this old house!

I hear the hollow cry of the wind as it whispers to me
Flowing like a fresh breeze down the chimney.
I hear the faint Tsss as the dust calmly settles on the bare floor.
I hear the cries from the forgotten portraits of lively beings past.
I can smell the pipe tobacco which so calms the room.

I know this house!

I feel the warmth of the Christmas Eve fire.
I hear the thumping of children as they hurtle
Down the stairs to devour their Easter candies.
I am standing in the mud tracks left from long hours in the creek.
I hear the clanging of pans in the kitchen preparing food for the Thanksgiving feast.
I hear the children playing in the fallen leaves,

I know this house........
I was this house.........
I am this house............
This hall of memories!

by Daniel T. (4/06)

jesmith@earthlink.net To read more student work go to Student Authors or go back to Ms. Smith's English Page

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