The Old Caldwell House

I visited the house where I grew up;
tho, “grew up” isn’t really true;
at five feet tall; my tenure was up;
so I couldn’t really claim I grew.

Still, it would, forever, be my home;
a scene of each lasting impression;
tho, I live far away; in the country, alone;
my final house, in a long succession.

The old Caldwell house looms in my thought;
tho now distant; it’s never too far away;
but, when I think of the fellowship, it brought;
it pops up in my mind, each day.

My Mother and Father were perfect for me;
my sister, and three brothers; the same;
our parents taught us each, how we should be;
when wrong; we cannot dodge blame.

The values they taught; caused me to grow;
tho, at the time, they seemed like manure;
but they were incessant; wanting me to know;
that only truth and honor were pure.

As I drove away from the Caldwell House;
I realized I was leaving for the last time;
I’ve lost much I love; including a spouse;
now longing for a house, more sublime.

A friend, now owns it with his spouse;
my mother and father must be proud;
when he referred to it, as the “Old Caldwell House”
my father, in heaven, was laughing out loud.

Monty 7/28/23. # 1,708