From the valley below she shines,
This quaint old log cabin of mine.
The sun reflects off her window panes
And the light filters down like rain.
She's been in my family for ages it seems
The stories of her history just makes me gleam.
She was built back in the eighteen hundreds
When life was simple, even without comforts.
She sits upon a hillside in full bloom
Covered in purple wildflowers and pretty flumes
Nestled at the foot of a green mountain side,
The most beautiful place I have ever eyed.
My family loves to come here in the spring
The trees are full of all kinds of birds that sing.
The mountain air is so clean and pure
You know you want to stay here for sure.
There's not a road where you can drive
So you have to climb up the hillside
Along the way I pick all kinds of flowers
And the fragrance fills the cabin for hours.
There's just enough room for maybe four
Ample sleeping space, even on the floor.
The little kitchen has a wood stove to cook
And for entertainment, I relax with a good book.
Near by there's a mountain stream
The water is so good, it tastes like a dream
Ice cold and clear as can be
As it rushes down, you can look and see.
Little critters that live there love to run and play
They seem to be happy to see us everyday.
If I were asked, where I would rather live,
It would be easy to guess the answer I'd give.
This old log cabin perched on a hill
Looking so peaceful and inviting still
After all this time and history that has passed
I would make this home, be my last.
Written by Shirley Barr
March 9, 2005
All Rights Reserved
Psalms 121: 1,2
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. |
