Little Houses Grow

Why can't things stay the same?

It's such a shame.

A shame that they can't be as wonderful as they first came.

I remember the first days where I lived in my little house in Oglesby.

A joyful little place I often long to again see.

A place with great open skies and green fields that glisten with silver in the sun`s beam.

Where everything was as happy as it could seem.

Today it is still a special place,

But it now holds a different taste.

Because nothing ever stays.

Just as every year there are new corn leaves to meet the sun's rays,

There are things I remember that are here no more.

Such as wonderful people, that have gone

Leaving my heart rather sore,

But grateful I am, to have known them,

For them to have known me when I was young.

That they got to see flowers as they first sprung,

Not as they withered, not before there was a great change to this town.

Before there was the talk of tearing my little house down,

Before it was conquered by age and rotting wood.

I thought it would last forever, if only it could.

As I think of all those nights it would protect me from the scary beasts outside;

When big bushy trees became cloaked with the ink of the night

I find, it was the only place I knew, where I could be safe and hide.

I want to protect it as it did for me,

But I know now that won't always be.

However, it is still standing I still have time to spare.

It's still waiting there.

Although, there are many things that have changed,

There are also many more that stay,

For the skies are still blue; they have not yet faded grey.

Every visit, a surprise is in store

I don't know what will wait there for me anymore

I am no longer a child, it is no longer my home, yet it has a home in my heart,

Even though, it is now falling apart.

I still have the memories, those never fade.

Things may change, but I'm glad so many sweet ones were made.