Stark Street

 

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There is often special feelings for the place we were raised
With infinite fine memories available for us that we praise.
This poem briefly visits the home that we all grew up in,
Living and loving our young lives to the fullest, way back then.

 

 

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Stark Street

 

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Phillips, Texas, was Company houses for the workers there,
My Dad worked for the Phillips Refinery that was very near.
He walked just three short blocks to work from our front door.
He had bought our house, and the Company owned it no more.

 

 

 

 

 

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Our home on Stark Street was one block from Philtex Plant site
They made nasty chemicals that smelled awful even at night.
Occasionally, they lost some real nasty stuff and we would leave,
We went to my aunts house until the all clear was achieved.

 

 

 

 

 

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My Stark Street years were from eleven until I was nineteen.
I lived with my brother Craig, and my older sister, JerrylDine.
We all walked to school until we were old enough to drive,
My Mom cooked every meal, we never ate out and did thrive.

 

 

 

 

 

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We all went through our growing years here at this location,
My brother and I slept in bunk beds in the middle bedroom,
And JerrylDine got the back bedroom because she was Queen.
This arrangement worked good, much better than it may seem.

 

 

 

 

 

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We always had food on the table, and clothes on our backs,
Although my Mom made some clothes, but appeal they did lack.
We all made it through high school and graduated while there,
Never seeming to have to worry much about burdens to bear.

 

 

 

 

 

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After us children moved away from the Stark Street home site
An explosion at the Borger Refinery rocked the town at night.
Millions of dollars of damage was done to the homes in town,
And Phillips decided to move all houses off the area ground.

 

 

 

 

 

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My dad had this house and another moved into Fritch town
Where he built one larger house from two without one frown.
He added a three car garage and had the outside bricked.
A nicer home they couldn’t find even if they had picked.

 

 

 

 

 

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When we would go visit them, I often did sleep in my old room,
And memories of my youth that still lingered there did bloom.
I often thought of the good times we all had while growing up,
Like raising two family dogs from the time they were just pups.

 

 

 

 

 

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After my Mom and Dad passed away in the year of 2001,
We cleaned out the old house and an estate sale we did run.
We sadly put the house on the real estate market for sale,
And finally found a buyer to give an end to this little tale.

 

 

 

 

 

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When we get back to Fritch, we stop at the house and reminisce,
And think about the good memories we left there, I do confess.
We developed most of our family traditions there at that home,
Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners we never celebrate alone.

 

 

 

 

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By Bill

 

 

 

 

 

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Thanks for reading Stark Street,
Bill