149 Willow St.

In a small garden in a suburban town-
There grew a lilac tree; all purple and white in springtime.
It smelled like Heaven and I would cut a bouquet
And drink deep.

There was a swing set on the hill, a big hill to small feet,
Where cousins would screech and twirl and sing;
Launching themselves into fresh air,
Flying.

A cookie jar stood on the counter;
A friend to tiny appetites hungry before 5:00,
A mix to satisfy all six-
Never empty.

The two twin beds, slumbered in peace
Under the careful watch of Psalm 23-
Who's turn is it? Get the calender...
Oh I hope!

In a small house in a suburban town,
Live a Grandma and Grandpa.
We come and go, but they are the same,
They keep my childhood.