This Time, This Time

Many times, many times,

Passed rows of houses—

Neat and pretty,

On manicured lots.

Bought and sold houses,

Houses just like them—

Just like the others,

On little square plots.

This time, this time,

This time it’s different—

It’s rural, it’s free from

“Thou shalt nots”.

This house, this house,

This house is different—

Voices of grandchildren’s

Laughter not whines.

Nature surrounds her,

Adorns her in glimmer—

Sun shimmers softly through

Little leaves and vines.

This house, this house,

This house is our home—

Dew glistens upon it,

Our jewel in the pines.

Birds tweet their love songs,

Winds gently roll by—

There is a rustle of leaves,

Where our spirts roam free.

The love and the laughter,

Sifts through our hearts—

Fills them with hope,

In our haven by the sea.

Come visit us anytime,

Anytime at all—

You’ll be welcomed with

His Holy word,

And a tall glass of iced tea.

You can’t pass this home

In a row filled with houses—

It’s rural, it’s free

From societal lines.

She can’t be missed,

She sparkles and shines—

This time, this time,

This time—

She’s mine.