Alan L. Winters

SOMEBODY’S HOME

This was once somebody’s home
In view of river’s edge.
Where April thaws ran clear and cold
And autumn boats flowed red and gold.
Who lived within these walls?
Who called this dwelling home?
Who were they who owned this land
And did they live alone?
I wonder all these things
In view of river’s edge.
For as I wander on my own
I feel the memories forever etched
Upon the mortar, wood and stone.