Grandpa’s house was small and white and it sat upon a hill.
Flowers were growing happily in the ground which he had tilled.
On the front of his house was a small square porch with bushes at each side.
These were called “Bridal wreath” and their branches spread far and wide.
They arched up towards the heaven, then looped back down to earth.
To little white bouquets on its branches, each spring this bush gave birth,
Along the front side of the house, (the one that looked over a field),
Tall and swaying holly hocks gave colorful blooms their yield.
Outside the living room window, growing not very far from the road,
Grew a thick circle of tiger lilies, proudly bearing their load.
In the front of the house in a garden, not far from a low lying ditch,
Grew great big pink peony bushes in a black soil so moist and rich.
In the orchard grew some apple trees and each spring their flowers came.
If ever a blossom smelled sweeter, I just do not know it’s name.
But, as beautiful as these all were, there was one I loved the best.
It was a tall, tall bush that grew really big, much taller than the rest.
It was so big we created a house where inside we created a room.
We loved its perfumed fragrance and enjoyed its lavender blooms.
Nothing so much depicts Grandpas place as this giant lilac tree.
How it grew so tall and large still remains a mystery to me..
The house is no longer bright and white, it is old, faded and worn.
The flowers have gone back to Mother Earth and this I often mourn.
But no one can take away the memories I have of my Grandpa’s home.
These memories often bloom themselves and within my mind they roam.
So now as I am old and gray, as old as Grandpa was then.
Many scenes of lovely flowers come, through old memories my Grandpa sends!
Thanks Grandpa Art!