Dale Lloyd

The memory of a limestone house in quiet country place.

Brings gentle warmth into my heart – a subtle smile to my face.

Beneath the stately maple trees, whose branches offered shade.

We children laughed and lingered there, content in games we played.

Long summer days we thought would last, with eyes that could not see – beyond the bends of childhood paths, or what our lives would be.

The fragrant scent of pumpkin pie would drift upon the breeze, a child’s growing appetite to tantalize and tease.

A little, white-framed village church where we would pray and sing.

There, we humbly bowed our heads in the presence of the King.

But time moves on, and all too soon we find ourselves full-grown, and life’s callings carry us far from that limestone home.

But no matter where life takes me, to near or distant place, there’ll always be these moments in which I slow the pace – to remember silently a past that makes me glad.

With thankful heart my praise shall rise for the life I’ve had.