Papa's House
Great earth full of crisp new seed
Tender well-worked hands do nourish;
An apple tree marks its place
By the gate to welcome.
Green blades decorate
Vast is the horizon;
Small friends do share the pleasue
Tickly to the footed touch.
Flitting are the sun-kissed wings
A butterfly does float past;
Tiny eyes peeking out
Hands pressed upon the glass.
Artist hands move skilfully through
Forward beyond rooms we've known;
Peeling layers, buffing pearls
Of wisdom we didn't know we knew.
Roots knotted, running deep
Firm is the foundation;
Pillars of the walls do stand
We are pillars of the land.
Tending gardens of the heart
Growing grace and beauty;
Papa's House has many rooms
All to which are welcome!
