Old gray house up on the hill,
Standing brave against the wind,
Oh, the stories you know still,
Told of times back then.

When the builders set your frame
And put your windows in;
In your hearth a warming flame;
Life in you could begin.

Then your family moved in you,
First dad and mom, then children,
A simple house, home so true
So welcoming a friend.

Children grow and people change
But you, oh house, remain.
New ones paint and rearrange;
Yet you are still the same.

Local folk and passers by
Admire your beauty worn,
They might often wonder why
You look so very forlorn.

If they knew the things you’d seen
And heard the lovely sound
Of happy family gathering,
In loving clamor ’round,

They might want to come inside
and live in you once more,
To know contentment and such pride,
That lived in you before.

Old gray house up on the hill,
I admire you each day,
And hope that, someday, someone will
Within your shelter stay.


One thought on “OLD GRAY HOUSE

  1. So far my favorite poem. It reminds me of an old abandoned house over by Baker. Every time I pass by I wonder who lived there; who decided this was their little piece of Eden, maybe a 100 years or more ago

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