A SMALL HOUSE
Along the banks of a river, is home,
Apple trees and hills of grass live here.
A small house for a family of people,
Food on the table and a fire burning warm.
Sitting on the porch, a fiddle in hand I am,
A pipe to smoke is an evening kind of thing.
Horses are down for the night, children in our sight,
Nineteenth century life is quite a fight.
A small house is all we need to believe,
Hopes and dreams are seen as far as our eyes can see.
Keith Garrett
A gentler era where hopes and dreams were something to look forward to, now, what??? Beautiful and well penned.
Thanks somuch
On Sun, Apr 16, 2017 at 11:22 PM, keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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