my dad was born in the living room.
when he was older he romanced my mum
in the parlour room.
he watched his mother make wonderful cakes
in the kitchen.
the garden was where he bonded with his father -
a real percy thrower in the making.
when i stayed there
we'd sit by the window in the dark
and listen as the trains raced by.
now they are all gone -
even the house belongs to someone else.
when you are little
you think that nothing will ever change.
when you get older
you realise that it has to.
everytime I pass
I wish we could all go back
but it's someone else's turn now.
please look after it
it could be your most magical memories
- i know it's mine.
By Lisa Arthur