That Childhood Home Poem by Kevin Hulme

I wandered by chance to the Home of my Birth
A Victorian Old Pile of Memorable worth,
For it looks, and is, a grand old place
Proclaiming to all its founding grace.
How it Regally stands by younger Walls
Like a Wise Old Don in College halls,
So lofty and proud the Visage speaks
No modern hearth could well compete.
My Childhood Home, That Cherished Home
Where infant shades forever roam,
For if Rooms could talk what tales to weave
Of vanquished youth and make believe,
As within its doors were innocent games
That saw my ‘Drake' off the Spanish Main,
And desperate Outlaws clear a Bank:
Pirates and Cutthroats ‘Walk the plank'.
Now other Children script a tale
Courageous Feats to each unveil,
And other Mothers with pride and care
Uphold the Household order where-
Wash-day items cleaned and pressed
Weekday Meals and Sunday Best,
While dutiful Fathers oil and plane
When DIY comes around again,
For the wind of time blows on a pace
To leave its withering, tired trace.
My Childhood Home, That Remembered Home
Where honest days of pleasure known.
Ageless you are by the Seasons told,
Though your playful Child is showing Old.