House on the Hill by Brenda Sparkman

I still remember living in the house on the hill,
Although older now I wonder if it sits there still.
There seemed to be so much fun there to be had,
Childhood memories which were happy not sad.

We had a sidewalk right at the edge of our street,
Everyone of us kids thought this was really neat.
Because we could make our big hopscotch there,
Drawing our best so it would be nice and square.

At times jumping rope or playing hide and seek,
You had to count to ten and you should not peek.
There was imagination used in our times at play,
And we could be anyone we wanted on any day.

A cowboy riding his trusty broom for a horse,
The boys giving all the sound effects of course.
Hearing a whinny from their horse here or there,
Soon sounds of a big gunfight would fill the air.

Was it a doctor or nurse we really wish to be,
Tending to pretend patients you could not see.
Wasn’t there something else we needed to do,
To maybe take their pulse and temperature too.

Boy, those fun days were such a long time ago,
We all loved it especially when it would snow.
Getting down the hill sitting on our school book,
Sometimes going so fast we were afraid to look.

When we would get home from school each day,
Hot chocolate awaited before we went out to play.
But those days are now long gone and in the past,
“Why do we have to grow up, why can’t it last?”

© Brenda Sparkman
December 2003

Graphic Set by Designer Lady