(c) 2018 Edward York
There is a house where I once lived,
It\'s just a museum of memories now.
I remember the updates and repairs,
With sweat across my brow.
So much has weathered over time,
The front door still sports a crack.
The front steps have started to sag a bit,
Just like the deck out back.
The memories of each room I see,
Fills my heart with joy.
Like the room where our crib once stood,
When we brought home our baby boy.
I remember struggles to put him to bed,
All the bedtime stories I read there.
I remember how he fell asleep,
While we rocked in that wooden chair.
I remember all the times at play,
At the castle where he stood guard,
The puppy that he named Champ,
And lemonade stands in the yard.
A house is more than brick and wood,
It\'s where memories can be made,
And they remain a part of you,
If you don\'t let them fade.