A Quaint House Poem by Micah Krahn

There is a little house near where I grew up, a cute green cottage painted with the colours of the forest.

It is a small quaint house, not occupied by children or of rowdy teenagers, but of a kind quiet old lady, the kind you wish everyday that she was your grandmother.

Sweet scents of apple pie fleeting through the single pane open kitchen window sills.

At first glance, while walking down the sidewalk near her house. Cute cuddly teddy bears in teacups border around her yellow wallpapered walls, she'd often be playing cards near the window, glancing at each other she would often smile and wave at me.

Sometimes I just smiled and kept walking. We were the highlight of each other's day. Her glorious smile made you feel good inside, a warm pleasant ray of sunshine. A smile which could light up any room.

She would often invite me in for some herbal tea and goodies. A sweet dish of brownies, cookies and candies. Milk was often offered as well.

Her House was the one with the crooked chimney, and the mix matched red bricked European-style shingles; a pond was outside her place, which was almost always inhabited by ducks and ducklings.

I'd often go scatter bread crumbs with her just to keep her company.she was a bit sad after my family moved away, no more visits with that sweet lady.

Some of my best childhood memories were hanging out with the lady next door. Mrs Kendal in her sweet quaint little house.