Playhouse

I had a playhouse...once,
Where barren growths...I saw.
From the dry hills of tall mountains,
It lay beneath the draw.

And stood among the gorges,
And the washes that came down.
And in the run-off of the snows,
It acted like a clown.

There beneath a clay bank,
As a child...I played.
In the soft and silty-sands,
Some pretty rocks...I layed.

So often as I watched the sheep,
I sat where nature dealt.
And builded me a castle,
Where no human hands had felt.

As years have past...I think upon,
And my thoughts are there retraced.
I wonder now...if I did return,
Would I find it all erased.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Ethel's great, great granddaughter, Karmen - approximately 2 miles from the homestead dugout where Ethel would have had her playhouse.