Alan L. Winters
I’ve seen the place where I once lived,
But that was then, way back then.
Etched in my mind I see the doors.
I see the walls, the halls, and floors.
There in the parlor the tall clock stood
Warm and smooth of cherry wood.
In golden frames the paintings hung.
They had no names when I was young.
This is where I learned and grew.
But when was that? I wish I knew.
©Copyright September 1998 by Alan L. Winters
Photographs ©Copyright by Alan L. Winters
Author’s Note: This poem was based on a dream I had and knew there was someone out there that I could eventually dedicate it to. Happy birthday, Steve [Brandenburg] Alan L. Winters – May 9, 2006