My House

I remember special houses,
          my brains memory vault,
          a cache of stored life-tapes,
          a period in-time
.

I remember headstones,
          walking in a graveyard,
          etched in its history,
          natives and whites co-exist
.

I remember field trips,
          visiting museums,
          a life of history,
          for appreciation
.

I remember field crops,
          a patch-work of colours,
          kissed by the autumn sun,
          its harvest to feed many.


I remember so much,
          yet my vault needs dusting,
          'my house' needs some order
           for the joys in my day.


I remember 'my house,'
          a gift for me to dwell
          while I make my own mark,
          my imprint in this life.


Tivonna