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Poem

Ah tis a glorious morn in Old Penryn Town
A chill in the air, sparkling frost on the ground
The Sun rising o're the mountains and trees to the East
What a beautiful sight .. for these old eyes a grand feast

The garden is aglow as it greets the new day
The flowers and plants rising from their sleep in the usual way
The field basks in the sunshine and soon the geese will arrive
Settling in to rest and feed on the pond what a sight for sore eyes

At the foot of the Sierras Old Penryn Town does quietly rest
The remnants of old orchards paint a clear picture of its glorious past
The hills and valleys provide a small shelter from the cities that lay beyond
Bathing everything in their beauty as if created by a mystical magic wand 

In the distance a lonely train whistle can be heard loud and clear
As the train's monotonous hum draws ever more near
People traveling to somewhere, supplies destined for those further North
The train tracks form a majestic hi way as they weave back and forth

Every day in Old Penryn Town is a gift to be cherished
I often think of those that settled this land and then quietly perished
Their spirits cast an invisible cloud covering this beautiful land
And sometimes at night they can be felt among us .. still lending a hand

Life provides many challenges and often our rewards are too few
And to find peace and comfort is something most of us seldom do
So I am thankful that my love and I settled on this most hallowed ground  
As each day is a blessing in Old Penryn Town

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