Over the mountains, through the fens,
There's a cabin in a glen.
A fire is waiting, the hearth is warm,
Food and shelter from the storm.
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread,
A place to rest your weary head,
A hearty meal and a cheerful song
To warm your heart. Here, you belong.
Outside, out there, the beasts may rage
The wind may howl, the storm rampage.
But stand they fast outside this door,
None dare come in, though they implore
With beats and bangs, with furious screams.
In here, they're but the stuff of dreams.
Empty are the threats they raise,
They cannot cross into this place
Where peace and rest soothe heavy heart,
And heal the scars of angry dart,
Where love can kiss each tear away.
Let good drink flow and music play!
Let cheer lift up each weary face,
Here inside my resting place.
Come in, sit down, relax; kick your shoes off.ReplyDelete
A lovely place...ReplyDelete
Save me a spot:) This is beautiful!ReplyDelete
These days, with the rough weather going on across the country, your poem is especially apt. Thank you for sharing, Mr. KeithReplyDelete
Lovely evocation of that dream we all cherish about special places, Cyrus. Thank you. Anne StenhouseReplyDelete
Lovely,Cyrus. I so admire poets. It's so not in my skill/talent set. LOL Thanks for sharing.ReplyDelete