A Little Wooden House

The little wooden house
With the white picket fence
How I'd love such a place
To live and to grow.

Always constant, always stable
A place to cherish
And to build memories
A place to grow old.

The rusty bicycles
With balancing wheels
And The little blue car
Parked in the garage.

The tyre swing swaying
The bird bath twittering
The little frog pond
The sun-kissed garden.

With the tulips and roses
Spewing heavenly damasks
The emerald ivy creeping
Into the bedroom window.

The gnarled oak tree
Tapping on the attic
The leaves whispering comforts
At the dead of the night.

Berries ripe for picking
Larders eternally full
Bread, fresh butter
Homemade pickles and jams.

Adoring little hands
Hanging on to your finger
Comfort hugs
And loving caresses.

The little wooden house
An abode of memories.