The Homestead instead
Dear Editor,
When Alki was a different place
Where life walked at a slower pace
And didn’t wear designer shoes
Or live in condos that ate views
We knew as children of the beach
As soon as our small feet would reach
The porch of Alki’s old Homestead
Much more than food we’d all be fed
The place was lit by candlelight
Where every table dressed just right
Wore linen napkins, lacy cloth
And even spoons for sipping broth
The old log walls we loved so well
Were steeped in tales they’d never tell
And though despite their silent state
We’d make up stories while we ate
The food did not come all at once
Instead they’d serve us every bunch
In courses separate from the rest
Fried chicken was the very best
The Homestead’s where we always went
For any family tree event
It’s there a menu first I read
And where I saw my sister wed
Despite whatever name they find
To hide their dreary plans behind
No trendy spa or inn I know
Could match the Homestead we loved so
