Daniel C Berman Communications

There was a mouse, who lived in a farm house.
Many things he did see.
Time had been kind to the side lee-ward.
Only pealing paint, and a faded curtain could be seen for certain.
An overgrown apple tree in the windblown year, from some careless seed, long ago sown.
The years had been hard, the mouse knew for sure, but perhaps something pure could still be found, in a place where the wind made only a sound.

On the windward side , of that old farm house time’s ever reaching tide had come.
Rotting was the roof and the rafters some, were threatening to fall.
The house readily showed, aging’s pall.
Thoughts of concern for the future of the mouse, crossed the mind of that brave mouse.

He knew the foundation was sturdy, the beams inside stood straight and strong.
This house would not sing a final song.
If someone could be found to make the house sturdy and strong.

A family came and found potential in the house.
At this overjoyed, was the mouse.
With careful concern, the fate of the house took a sudden turn.
Fixed was the windows and the door.
Through the roof the rain would no longer pour.

Who was that family who saved that house from destruction’s lurch.
They were a group of people called the Church.

How often do we come across a wind-swept hilll.
Upon which a house stands still, for seventy years or more.
From life’s heat and wind, the house is sore.

The Lord’s help we do need to plant yet another seed, of God’s grace and mercy at the time correct.

Author’s note: This was stashed in an old notebook of mine and I believe I composed this some five years ago. Every so often as a means of stress relief I will draw and write poetry. My wife and I are in the middle of moving right now, and I came across this poem again and I thought I would share it with you. It may not be extremely polished but neither was that old house.