My Worn-Out Floors,
A poem.
I look around this house and I see the worn-out floors that need replacing and the doors.
I look down and I remember that this was love,
This was joy,
This was fellowship and being together.
So I look down at these floors and I see that they're worn here,
But love was born here in our family and our friends.
It was dancing and playing balls and running and socks sliding and cats' paws gliding.
And I cherish the memories of all these marks and dents in the wood because they were all made in love,
Which is good.
In the preparation of meals and playing of Hot Wheels,
The scuff marks of my parents coming through the door with hugs and love and so much more.
These scars hold memories of joy and laughter.
And now when I see them,
I remember it after.
So blessed are the scars and the marks on my floors,
For they show the love for the past 20 years.
And then remembering,
I shed a few tears for the times that were,
But may not be again.
But I am thankful for my life shared with family and friends.