Bill Simmons


The House - Poem by Bill Simmons

He drove his nail, his first nail, into the home he was to build
In this valley surrounded by oak that he so loved
He would work all night and and slave the days away
And he knew he must never give up

He had never done such a thing
Watched a bird build her nest
One stick at a time
Thought he could do the rest

He cut down every tree
Imagined every line
He knew what he envisioned
It would only take time

And day to day the house took shape
And the creatures came to see
This man who slaved night and day
Sometimes with no sleep

It was long and it was wide
And it stood two story's high
Carved were the columns from his own two hands
That amazed those that passed by

When he was done
He sat down on the lawn
The people gathered and said to him
It's such a beautiful thing he done

Then one man said
You have truly remarkable hands
The only thing I must tell you sir
Is you built it on my land.

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Read poems about / on: sometimes, beautiful, house, work, tree, sleep, people, home, night, time



Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 12, 2004



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