If this Old House Could Talk

I grew up out in the country
About 12 miles from the nearest town
So I began to think of the days back then
So, I thought I'd write them down
I've been around some 65 years
Been a Biker, an Alky and a drugger
But now for almost 37 years,
My life has been about others
As I ride my Harley down the country roads
I see old houses along the way
I slow down and stop and I ask myself
If it could talk, what would it say
Would it tell, how it's walls were built
With calloused hard working hands
About the family who first moved in
About their lives and their plans
Would it tell, how it kept them dry
And warm when the winters were cold
About the babies who were born inside
And those who died, when they were old
Would it tell of the love within it's walls
When the family gathered around to pray
About the kids banging its old screened doors
As they ran in and out to play
If these old houses could really talk
What stories they could tell
Things that aren't even a memory to some
And to others, it's just as well
But to me, each have their story
If down the path of their history we'd walk
I wonder what joy and sadness they'd share
If these old houses could talk.
 
Pee Wee/Oldbiker