Hydrangea home
Where the hydrangea bloom
Was once my bunked bed room
Where now are columns tall
Was a fence with zinnias sprawling
Then an open field small
Where my uncle and I tossed balls
Across the street loomed Hughes
With the organ with pipes huge
In the late night a student practicing
My little room with Bach reverberating
Asbury was a place dear to us
The duplex with the like family beside us
Fitting that the hydrangea marks our place
Their blooms upon our memory trace.
No comments:
Post a Comment