The old house was brick with lots of rooms,
Too many windows to really call home.
But on a snowy day,
We could run window to window as we played.


Cold it was on the third and fourth floor,
Up where James and Mrs. Johnson snored.
But for us on the second floor,
The place was a-buzz on the ground floor.


Poppa had his practice on the North end,
Momma her studio on the South,
So we the children had to go upstairs,
And look for all of the windows there.


Once upon a time in November
Before the snow fell and the leaves were golden,
I went for a walk to the park,
When I got home it was past dark.


But that house with all of its candles,
All lit up was a sight to see,
Our own home was something
Once upon a time in November


Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)










Can winter be far behind
When Autumn leaves start to fall
At one time in this mansion
Someone gave a debutant ball


A young lass caught the fancy
Of a handsome young man
He danced with her for awhile
And then asked for her hand


The next party given there
Was a wedding for the pair
She wore a gown of white
And a veil upon her hair


Her parents were so proud
That she was such a beauty
The father gave her away
It was a father's duty


Mother cried great tears
For her little girl all grown
It was the grandest wedding
That the town had ever known


Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)











The Autumn wind did howl that day
The leaves came tumbling down
Pumpkins on the front lawn
Were carved to wear a smile.


The house was still dressed for Halloween
Cobwebs shrouded the corners
Skeletons rattled in closets
The house awaited mourners.


The windows were dirty and clouded
The floors creaked underfoot
Cold drafts blew across the floor
The fireplace was black with soot.


The children came and rang the bell
They were old enough to come alone
Slowly the door creaked open
But nobody seemed to be home.


The children squealed with delight
At the candy heaped near the door
The children ate with shouts of glee
And never were seen No More.


Frannie (Frannie516@comcast.net)










Once upon a November, she sat in front of her window sash.
Her easel was sat in a position to catch the morning light.
And on the floor were several crumpled drawings which she considered to be trash.


Her cat looked up at her as if to say "draw me".
Her beautiful tabby was a good model, as anyone could see.


She began to sketch her beloved cat, and soon the light faded into twilight.
Her spectacles fell down on her nose as she tried to improve her eye sight.


Her sketch turned into a work of art of which she was proud.
Her cat approved, as she meowed very loud.


Never a November morn proved so productive for the artist and her pet.
People came from far and wide to get a sketch of their dog or cat and were forever in her debt.


By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)





 

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

Watch these pages for more poems and stories.
In the meantime, click the links below for
writings by our other authors.


Wanderings ( 6 Authors )

A Touch of Her Hand

The Old Wraparound

Waters' Journey

Haiku: Low Place

Life's Seasons

A Touch of Her Hand

Farm Stand ( 11 Authors )

Resort By The Sea

The Unwrinkled Heart

Victorian Ghost

Autumn Rhapsody

Haiku: Geese

The Waterfall ( 7 Authors )

My Scarecrow

Halloween

Samantha




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