Those old wooden planks forming structures
stood behind my 400-year-old home;
still, they stood through each test of time
long after I had left this place to roam;

From the house and its slippery paths,
mossed and icy obstacles in winter;
stood those dilapidated monuments,
though each season would split and splinter;

To the left, “the office”, where Grandad
collected his postcards of the wild Yukon;
locked up tight his precious memories
that I would sometimes curiously snoop on;

Around the back, the gardening shed,
musty and full of rusting tools;
next to that, the beer shed
where empty crates were used as stools;

I still recall the stray cat delivering
us a parade of kitten after kitten,
so we kept and named her ‘Mother’
as we all became tragically smitten;

Sadly, she didn’t stand the test of time
and with her next litter, cruelly, died;
nothing left except a couple of photos
tucked into an album and simply kept aside;

Still more sheds stood next to the fence,
one full of coal, another with wood;
once a week, I collected both
for the fire; a role I understood;

But there were two more I don’t recall,
their purpose a mystery to my childish eyes;
perhaps full of junk or even empty;
so much for the test of time and how it flies.

All this is true.

Shared with the W3 prompt #162:
a. Your poem must include deliberate repetition of a word, phrase, or sentence structure at least three times throughout the piece.
b. Your poem must incorporate the word “still” at least twice.

This poem is way longer than I would like and became more of a rhyming reminisce for myself rather than an ideal piece of artistic poetry.