The Second Generation
I walk into my kitchen nook
And take a quick and hurried look
To see it neat and sparkling clear
And think of days of yesteryear.
When dirty dishes piled high,
You almost though that they would fly!
The knives and forks were strewn about,
Plus water dripping from the spout.
A hundred glasses lined the sink;
Each one produced a thirsty drink.
The screen door (swung on one bent hinge)
Would catch the curtain by the fringe.
But now the scene is still and mild.
Gone are the voices shrill and wild.
But wait, what is that noise I hear?
The grandkids have arrived, oh dear!
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