The house my grandfather built when he came from Ireland to Staten Island, NY was number 37. He raised his family there and my mother raised all of us 10 children there. The house no longer belongs to the family since everyone’s passing, but remains such an important part of my life.
I’m there again
Within the walls of childhood
Reliving the days of youth
***
But, not people
That makes me feel the warmth
Of those times past
***
It is the security of walls
The reminder of a place
Where love and family resided
***
The home of yesterday
May be a distant memory
But, is visited by me each day
***
37, the number on the box
The number close to my heart
True, a number from my past
But, still forever it’s a part
The house on Seaview Avenue
Where we had all learned it all
Laughter and tears, shared among us
Surrounded by its four walls
***
Those squeaking stairs
I can hear them now within my head
And feel I am right there again
***
The scent of pies
That came strong from the kitchen
Lingers lower than the ceilings
***
I’m there again
Within the walls of childhood
Reliving the days of youth
***
The home of yesterday
May be a distant memory
But is visited by me each day
***
37, the number on the box
The number close to my heart
True, a number from my past
But, still forever it’s a part
The house on Seaview Avenue
Where we had all learned it all
Laughter and tears, shared among us
Surrounded by its four walls
***
That’s where we shared our home
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