We have a small house for me and Bill,
A real home at the top of the hill.
One acre of green grass, shrubs all around,
A porche enclosed width of the house.
Seven people once lived with us,
two giggly little girls and three happy little boys.
Now all grown up and no place to go,
Caught up in the storms and siwrling snow.
The nest is all tattered and torn, but still room for more!
Our home experienced many a scar,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem