"There are mars on the doors and walls
Its rooms are empty and wide.
Here and there is a broken pane
Where the night wind creeps inside.
The front porch has fallen to ruin
With vines in possession there.
A shed is tumbled and strewn
And rubbish is everywhere.
Somehow it softens in moonlight
And my fancy wanders free.
That old house is more than a house
It once was home to me.
I can see a place by the window
Where firelight once played inside.
I can picture the porch as it used to be
And grounds so clean and wide.
Doors with well-oiled hinges
Let in our willing feet.
With everything in place as it should
And everything trim and neat.
I see it in mellowed reflection
Until years have changed it to be
A house with a memory; it’s more than a house
It once was home to me.
I’d give so much to live again
In that house when it was young.
Then it knew our laughter and tears,
With its memory only begun.
I was unwise to have left it, I know
All I got for my pains
Was a heap of things I thought worthwhile
And desire to be back again.
It might be made home again, who knows?
I watch the moonlight slant through a tree,
And know that old house was more than a house.
It once was home to me."
Poem By Leo VanMeer
1907 - 2006
Took a road trip Friday...traveling up & down dusty highways...stopping here & there...lunch in a greasy spoon...old turquoise counters worn smooth with age...farmers in greasy caps...talking weather & gossip...gopher shoot notice on the bulletin board outside...more driving & finally a stop to take in the air...to look at an old house...an old soldier...of life gone by...Swallow's nests in the rafters...Coyote den in the cellar...a house full of character...memories float like dust in the air...Saskatchewan...her past is evident along her highways...abandoned & fallen... old homesteads return to the earth...
Warm Easter Wishes to You & Yours
Susan