Small and quaint
But felt like a mansion
For so long I never knew
Just how much they gave away
Comfortable places to sleep
And food filled plates
How little they had
But still the richest in my eyes
Several generations sleeping on floors
Tracking in mud
Now of course
I leave my shoes at the door
The rooms are still filled now
Even in their age
And the food is still delicious
And the rooms still warm
Who knew such a small place
Could hold such a big part of my heart
It has never just been my grandparents home
It has been their bed and breakfast
And there is always a vacant room