Our Kin

I search always my past to find
To unlock that dusty door
If today were yesterday
Would I want it to be as before

Or would I be sorry I looked back
On things not meant for me to see
Knowing well nothing would change
I would still be me

But I am thankful for the chance
To hear how things began
When Granddaddy lights up his worn old pipe
And tells us about our kin.

Grace Lee Smith Green
copyright 1996