Sunshine and timbers,
The building stands bare
And tall in the Autumn air.
Memories are being made
As the foundation is laid
For a brand new,
Old piece of history.
It may seem silly,
But on we need this fine store
On the days so chilly
To keep our bones
Safe from the cold
And our minds out of
The sadness of winter.
It provides music and song,
In the dark of December that
Seems to last so long.
It is my saving grace,
My only reason to live,
The true Center of all of Space.
So, rise from the ashes,
Raise the walls
And raise the roof,
Raise the ancient wood,
Raise our spirits once again.
YOU ARE READING
CCCLXV - Poetry (Part 2)
PoetryPart 2 of my 365--this year: 366--challenge. A poem a day for a year.
