THE HOUSE
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
The house surrounded by hills
A pathway of golden daffodils
Weeping willows
Framed the wooden windows
Old oaks with bent branches
Gave shade to rickety benches
A place to wrest
To watch the doves
It was the best
A house i loved
A trickling stream
A perfect dream
The honeysuckle
A tap that trickled
The house I visited
My bedroom was beautiful
Country roses
Polished wood floor
Carved butterflies
Around the door
A log fires
In the sitting room
Freshly cooked bread and scones from the kitchen
On my lap I would sit with the newest kitten
By night I would look at the stars
And the silver moon
So clear
Nothing in the way
And oh, the sun
On fine days
Beautiful blooms
I can’t remember
A dark damp November
But pure icy nights
And spring hours that went by
A beautiful sky
With marshmallow clouds
And smells so sweet
Horses trotted past
In the cobbled street
A river ran fast
And fish they did jump
Ducklings so plump
And frogs on Lilly pads
Nothing at this house could have made me sad
© Fiona Cummings
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