Rebecca says, "My Grandma was the real writer in our family and
this poem is about her life growing up as second eldest of sixteen
children living in a two room shack".
Keys To A Kingdom
I close my eyes and I'm there. There's that old rocking chair.
And an old faded picture fills my mind.
I'm back home once more. Children playing on the floor
A lifetime of memories I find.
Memories that linger, I find I'm heaven bound
Asking do you know our Mom and Dad who spread their love around?
And do you know their children, sixteen had made a flock
And about our little house that had a door without a lock.
So softly he answered, many things I do recall.
An old rocking chair, a faded picture on the wall.
A dented little bucket that held water from a well
And worn out overhauls that hung upon a rusty nail.
I know she rocked the cradle through many sleepless nights
And I've seen their tiny lamp that was their only light
Like the little shepherd watching over his flock
Memories of a little house that had a door without a lock.
They found the keys to a kingdom, a mansion on a hill.
There's that old rocking chair, she rocks the cradle still.
The door is always open, a mirror for them to see
The image that reflects the love that's all a part of me.
Their image that reflects the love that's all a part of me.