No Place Like Home

No Place Like Home prose poem

Photo by kimdokhac

If one could tour my place of birth
They would notice a place where time stood still
Then they would see a place of humble simplicity

If one could spend one night in the house where I was born
No hot water or bathroom, but cold night visits to the outhouse
Then they would be more grateful, and acquire a taste for more humility

If one could roam the village where I grew up
A place where lighting bugs enjoyed the nights
Then they would walk on dusty grounds of stability

If one could only observe where I had to play
They would see no parks or play grounds for the poor
Then they would pause and share in their kids’ activity

If one could hear the soothing sounds that I heard by day and by night
The melody of crickets late at night, and roosters crowing early mornings.
Then they would experience far less stress, and have a chance with longevity

If one could get to know the neighbors I knew
The dear people I honored, trusted, and respected
Then they would understand the true meaning of civility

If one could care nearly as much as they
People who took the time to love and share
Then they too would love with all their ability.

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I am a retired minister and the husband of Barbara for 42 years. We reside in Sacramento ,Ca. We have two sons and a daughter, and we are the proud grandparents of 6 children.
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Milton Robertson
Milton Robertson

WOW, curtisjohnsonsr, brings back memories my grand parents had a tin roof, wood burning stove and an outhouse. Reading your poem, I can see it all again. Outstanding. God Bless.



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