The Old Rustic
The old rustic cabin by the lake
is made with wood for goodness sake.
Each morning I see the old rustic boat
in the dock ready to float.
There are fish to be caught
I take the old boat out
hopefully to catch mighty trout.
The old rustic boat moves with grace
knowing it needs a new face.
But for God sake it has a good pace.
My old rustic body moves with grace,
no worrying if someday
my memory will be erased.
My rustic old cabin will disappear one day.
My old rustic boat will no longer float.
My rustic old body will turn into ashes and dust.
My rustic old soul will certainly grow
and be very, very old
to see the seeds grow that I have sown.
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