The Storm Poem by Jim Meyerholtz

The storm is over, the disaster ended.
Into rubble and ruin my house has descended.
Pain and sorrow, with it I'm filled,
But I know it's time to rebuild,
How do I do it? Where do I start?
I can't do it, I'm not that smart.
I'll hire a builder, I'll let him come in.
To rebuild the house T Ill let him begin.
With hand so strong and eyes so sure,
foundation is poured on rock once stirred.
Next the frame starts to rise.
Then the walls are cut to size.
I let him work at his craft.
Soon the house is done front to back.
The builder is proud of the house rebuilt,
Now it's up to me to keep out the filth.
If I let it go and it runs down,
Again it will crumble to the ground.
Keep it clean. Keep it pure.
It will stand forever. The builder said 'For sure'.
To stand forever and never crumble.
Through storm, wind, and earthly rumble.
So here is my home rising from the sod,
The house was my life, the builder was God.