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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472793" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A House of Memories</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Four generations of my family have lived in that house, <br>everytime I pass it fresh memories are aroused.<br>It was once filled with laughter, music and conversation, <br>now there’s only creaking floors and insect habitation. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My younger sister and brother were born in the master bedroom <br>and their cries are in my memories as they left mum’s womb. <br>With the midwife shouting for more hot water and towels, <br>and dad pacing the floor listening for the new baby’s howl.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The happy times ended when sis fell from her bedroom window, <br>we all blamed ourselves and for years we suffered in sorrow. <br>Mum and dad spoke as if she was still about the house each day; <br>to them reality had died and their sadness was hidden away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon after my older brother went to war at the age of eighteen, <br>he was captured by the enemy and never again seen. <br>My granddad was killed whilst working underneath his car, <br>the jack gave way and he wasn’t missed for over an hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My young brother was an adventurer and explored the garden well, <br>the rope snapped and he drowned, it must’ve been hell. <br>Mum and dad had so much pain and distress locked inside, <br>they said nothing could stop their misery except suicide. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A week or so later, the morning began unlike any other day, <br>the master bedroom was quiet in an odd sort of way. <br>My twin sister and I had this feeling of gloom and despair <br>we broke down and cried before we got upstairs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We entered the master bedroom and saw mum and dad, <br>in each others arms, no longer looking sad. <br>And now there’s just my darling sister and me, <br>who daily live with our childhood memories.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Orlando+Belo">Orlando Belo</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472793" data-title="A House of Memories de Orlando Belo" data-description="Four generations of my family have lived in that house, 
everytime I pass it fresh memories are aroused.
It was once filled with laughter, music and conversation, 
now there’s only creaking floors and insect habitation. 

My younger sister and b..."></div>
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