Like an old friend when I pass you by
You haven't changed a bit
Sixty years later, still looking fit,
How the trees have grown so high.
You hold the secrets of my youth,
Your walls can tell my story,
Truth and lie, pain and glory,
That fairy who took my tooth.
Never ending stream of tales,
That carries my early years,
Scary nights full of fears,
Grass worn deep with trails.
Another family does now reside
More memories for you to hold
Always quiet, never been told
Within your warmth both coincide.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (229 Quan by G.R. Gaus )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
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