Poetry from the Generations 

The Little White House
by Velma M. Carlson

The little white house at the
     end of the road
Is as lonesome is it can be.
     There was always love and laughter,
But now there's only me.
     We had a long life together
Which seems like only a dream.
     The years passed by so quickly ~
And were much too short, it seems.
     Many times we talked of the future
When the years would come and go.
     Never thinking the day would
Really come ~
     When one of us would be alone;
In the little white house at the
     End of the road.
May I stay here as long as I live.
     All there is now are the memories
I have,
     And the happiness they give.

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