Homesteads

To hold onto the tenuous threads
from tradition’s timeless timbers
no matter where the seasons cast their tears or pearls,
is to nail oneself to the legacy of forebear plots
ever rooted in that acreage of ancestral bonds.

And though the weather beat down the memories
of the nails in nostalgia’s fleeting framework,
the heart ever beats so intensely
when inside that shelter where love was the wallpaper.

It is the deed to the past that is never sold,
a homestead of the spirit you can’t forget,
because it is the place that held the first sights
from when eyes only knew innocence,
collected as photographs to capture
what was beauty and fancy in one’s youth.

Though the paths from that doorstep
lead to so many different worlds and wonders,
inside there is always a key
unto that hearth where life began,
where giants were slain,
monsters tamed and fairies were seen.

With it all there was a whiff of enchantment
of magic and mystery,
so it ever haunts like a specter at midnight
who visits any place you’ve moved,
reflected as the lot that was more than dirt
for it was both castle and prison
amid the moments spent
thinking of greener grass.