Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2016
The smell of sweet maple syrup
I remember living there and the riding the horse with stirrup
All the furniture was made out of wood
The log Cabin had plenty of trees of Sherwood
Down the way was Joseph the Lumber Jack
He had muscles that were well stacked
Joseph could cut down some trees
In fact, our Log Cabin was built and it was a breeze
Yet that Log Cabin is what I called home
It was a place where I used to roam
There was an Sun roof we called the β€œDome”
But I will leave that alone
Oh that Log Cabin takes me back
I have a clear memory of it like piles in a stack
I remember a little stream that ran behind
This whole memory is all mine
Log Cabin, thanks for showing up in my mind, I will visit again from time to time.
Written by
preservationman  New York City
(New York City)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems