My Mother's House

My Mother's house has always seemed enchanted,

Perhaps because I've never known the rooms

To echo any sound but gentle music

Or be without a bowl of garden blooms;

Perhaps because the doors are always open

To welcome anyone who passes by;

Perhaps because the kitchen's never lonely

For homemade bread or apple pie;

Perhaps because the windows always glisten

And let the warm, sweet sunshine twinkle through.

Perhaps my Mother's gracious way of living

These years has made her house enchanted too.

poem by Mary Shirley Krouse