Gracious old stone homes, lofty rooms full of nooks and crannies
Snoe-white linen and antimacassars embroidered by our grannies
Cool wide verandahs, wrought-iron lacework draped with wisteria
Old fashioned cooking smells wafting from the kitchen, the hub of the interior
A grandfather clock ticking in the hall
Horses hooves on cobblestones, at each house they used to call
Sweetly perfumed gardens, fruit trees, shrubs, and fragrant flowers
Winding paths that lead to nowhere and a swing to while away the hours
Old stone laundry where the weekly wash was done
Spotless clothes and billowing sheets bleached by the summer sun
Sounds of a piano, or a wireless
Children playing in a nearby lane, seemingly tireless
Neighbours in their gardens, chatting over the fence
Everything in Grandma's day had an air of innocence
I feel so nostalgic now in this age of technology
If I could have a choice, I know where I should love to be
In a gracious old stone home
With rooms full of nooks and crannies
Cool wide verandahs and fragrant garden,
Exactly like my Grannies
Hearts hankers for true peace
earthly peace a dry season drizzle
coming suddenly then it vanishes
even the little evaporates like fog
Hearts yearn for peace made in heaven
knees are corroded in prayer and retreats
Humans raise hands to God in the skies
yawning like hungry goats on verandahs
This world of contested angry peace
celebrates peace when guns are silent
City of God still hopes against hope
that one day Emmanuel will come again
The world needs true peace to reign
Man-made peace is as fragile as straw
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