The Old Victorian By the Bay

I light a fire of determination within my redwood walls four hundred seasons have changed since I answered builders' call. My foundation laid to resist time and storms along the quay, the strength of stone supports a home where generations sought to stay. My eyes of glass with rust-paint brow do gaze upon the bay, my make-up, teal and sea-foam green, a look certainly gay. Twin turrets frame my pretty face with cap of weathered cedar, grace and symmetry my style, a home to civic leaders. My smaller rooms and crowded stairs put you in proximity with those you love (or maybe should) to reveal true intimacy. My yards have seen you playing games, my porch has watched you cry, this kitchens' feasts have fueled your flames, the bedrooms heard your sighs. All the stories that you read, the board games that you played, morning coffee, evening tea, became why I was made. Many folk have called me home, I've watched them come and go, and some have learned the secret that I was built to know.