It's Always Home Poem by Jake Copass

We all drove down the old dirt road,
My sisters, my brothers, and me.
It wasn't too easy to figure it out,
Where the old home used to be.
Guess the old house had been torn down,
The windmill and the old corral.
The little tin chicken house is still standing there
In the brush, there is still a dim trail.
You could hear the Bobwhites in the distance,
Cows munching grass up to their knees,
I'd swear that's the same old mockingbird
Perched high in that old apple tree.
No matter what else has happened,
There's some things you cannot erase,
The joys we all had together,
On our folk's little sandy-land place.