This old house is made of brick
And has been standing about a hundred years;
It’s a three-storied house
With a big basement
That had a wine cellar
In one of the rooms,
A cellar where my grandfather
Stored his homemade wine
Made from the grapes
Grown on his hilly back yard.
There are a lot of rooms in this old house
Where my grandparents raised
Three children
And where, when their children married,
Apartments were created on the first and third floors
For the married child and his or her spouse
And their children, as children were born.
My parents lived in this old house
For nine years,
Until I was almost five
And they were able to buy their own home.
But much as I loved that home,
Nothing could ever compare
With the memories in this old house,
That belonged to my grandparents.
My grandparents resided on
The second floor
When I was a small child,
And could sit in the rocking chair
By the kitchen window
On my grandfather knee,
Watching my grandmother
Make doughnuts.
Later, my grandmother
Would take up residence
On the first floor, front rooms
And rent out the rest of the house;
I spent many nights with my grandmother
In those two rooms
Where at night
We had a cup of hot tea
And saltine crackers
With real butter.
This old house
Holds many memories
For many people,
And now it is
An Assisted Living home
For disabled adults.
If we can no longer live in
This old house,
Perhaps it is a good home
For those disabled adults
And if there are any ghosts
In this old house
They can only be the friendly spirits
Filled with memories
Of family members who lived there
For so many decades.

–Sandra Lee Smith

For This Old House at 1925 Baltimore Avenue


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