My First Memory

I was cleaning out a box in the guest room last night and found some poems and things I'd written years (and years) ago. I thought I'd share them with you.

My First Memory
by K. LaVera Hill
 
The very first memory I can recall is when I was but two,
when I was riding my big wheel in my favorite shoes.

We lived in a town called Elba, a small dot on the map,
and right in the middle of the churchyard is where our small house sat.

I remember watching Dad as he carefully shaved his face,
and lots of other little things about that special place.

Dad got a job in Montgomery, and we had to move away;
I remember very distinctly what our house looked like that day.

I sat in my "punkin seat" on the wood floor in the bare living room, 
watching my house growing empty because we were on the move.