Childhood days knew frivolous fun. Nights brought fears one by one. Possessions were many we needed naught. My heart ached for the love I sought. Manicured yards brought flowers bloom. Inside myself was disaster’s loom. Unique and historic our house served a mission. Provided warmth; whipped into submission. Words whirled around like a centrifuge. God’s loving Son was my soul’s refuge. Escape came young, but I finished school. I learned to love and live the golden rule. © March 12, 2011 Dane Smith-Johnsen