My mother wrote this back in 1952. Her mother, my grandmother, had passed away giving birth to her 12th child. This happened when my mother was 4 years old.
This is not am actual picture of the LOG HOUSE AT THE END OF THE LANE mentioned in the poem.

THE LOG HOUSE AT THE END OF THE LANE
My eyes are filled with tear drops
My heart is filled with pain
I can't help but remember
The log house at the end of the lane.
Each year I go back to that old log shack
That stands at the end of the lane
And while I was there I'd hear Mother's Prayers
And I'd relive it all over again.
The last time I saw that ole log shack
Everything was much the same
I could see her chair in front of the fire
And I could hear her call my name.
One morning when I was four
I went rushing down the stairs
My mom was lying on the couch
My father was kneeling there.
Dad Took me in his arms jut then
And oh the tears he shed
As he tried to tell a four year old
Her Darling Mother was dead.
And so the years pass quickly
Time helps to ease the pain
Each year I go back to that old log house
That stands at the end of the lane.
Nancy G. Bowen