My grandparents house.

My cousin posted this picture on Facebook where she drove by my grandparents' house. They passed away about 20 or so years ago. The picture reminded me of a piece I wrote for a creative writing class I did in high school. My Grandparents’ House It was a place Of fun and joy Where I would run and play When I was a small boy. The smell of cedar And the aroma of honeysuckle. Old abandoned chicken coops Telling stories of games Of hide and seek. Long walks along the railroad tracks. Wet kisses on the cheek And “My how you’ve grown”. But now those halls are empty My grandparents are gone. No more games at the coops. No more playing in the field. But as I stand outside the house, White paint reflecting the summer sun, The wind picks up And the smell of cedar and honeysuckle Fills my nostrils. Tears well in my eyes, And a smile crosses my face.