The long road to Belleville is paved
with gold,
And the arch of St. Louis is a sparkling
diamond.
Tracing the railroad side, I spot the
Drury Inn,
And all I can think of is my sweet granny.
A tiny home and an even tinier refrigerator,
Stocked with an even tinier farm
fresh milk,
And tiny Dove chocolates in tiny glass bowls.
Brown paneled walls and green linoleum floors,
With pictures of John Paul and Papa Fred hung,
Next to Katie and Timmy and my mom.
I used to stare up and only know Katie,
I never knew Fred or even sweet Timmy.
Krispy Kreme fresh on the cozy, oval table,
With a view of my family and the house
next door,
And the Price is Right blaring on the TV.
I used to sneak into my Granny's room
While some stranger on TV won a new car,
And I'd drink chocolate milk and sit on the green carpet,
Hoping to see what Beanie Baby she'd give to my brothers and me,
Which were hidden up in the closet.
St. Clair's Mall, the amazing ceiling of
Macy's.
Lunch at Dillard's and Smokey Bones for dinner.
Another Busch Stadium visit for me to tally.
The Mississippi River, Althoff High School, St. Augustine's.
Aunt Francis always there with warm,
welcoming arms.
And my Papa always guarding over
my shoulder.
Although I am legally from somewhere north,
I will always remember Belleville as
my home.