My Home

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  • Memories

    My Home

    I dream of my home and my loved ones.
    A home that meant ever so much.
    Of holidays and happy times,
    On Christmas and Easter and such.

    I can still hear my boy's joyous laughter,
    As he listened to a radio show,
    Or how excited he used to get,
    When he saw the new fallen snow.

    I recalla little boy smiling,
    As he played on the floor with delight.
    I still feel his arms as he held me,
    To hug me and kiss me goodnight.

    I dream of my girls, both are grown now,
    Of joys and tears that are past.
    Of the good times we had when together,
    And the years that are flying too fast.

    I think of the girl that I married,
    And how much we are still in love.
    I hope that it might last forever,
    With God's blessings sent from above.

    She has made our house a home, my friend,
    With quiet loving care.
    You will find no ill will or quarreling,
    Because love is living there!

    Howard Monte Palmer,
    1944

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    hdmac commented on My Home

    06-25-2009

    Tender poem. It truly touches the soul. It reminds me of my earlier days growing up in a house of love.

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Csells’s Poems (3)

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