This was my grandmothers recollection
of her father building their home.
THE HOUSE MY DAD BUILT
of her father building their home.
That were hewn all four sides,
Strong, sturdy and heavy too
With plenty of room inside.
The logs were long and hewn smooth,
Acquired from off the farm
And laid secure in every way
To make the building warm.
The happy days with many dreams
Of those who would dwell inside
Were my Dad's thoughts while building it
And none my Dad did hide.
The floor was smooth, of poplar boards
That stayed so very white,
To keep it clean as clean could be
Was always my Mom's delight.
The doors were made of poplar too
And hung at either end
So clean fresh air could pass right through
And greet our many friends.
The attic was the half story
And floored both smooth and tight
Where beds were placed so neat and clean
They served us well at night.
I have told you of my dwelling,
I am not ashamed you know...
For it was built by one I love
So many years ago.
© Helen C. Wallen
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of the Day
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