THIS OLD HOUSE
The paint is peeled, the porch is cracked.
The doors are loose, and way out back
Two horses graze.
And in these mild winter days,
As I wander from the kitchen through the hall,
I wonder about all this old house has seen:
Kissing, biting, loving, fighting,
And the baby's scrawl upon the wall
Painted over in a brilliant shade of green.
This old house above the river,
Her old grace makes me forgive her
Creaking, and the leaking roof above the stove.
This old house sits by the oak grove,
Above the eddies and the cove,
Solid and exquisite as a coachman's glove.
This old house is love.
Across the field of gold haystacks
The river runs jade green and black
While two bluejays attack a snake that wants their eggs.
As I wander 'cross the pasture to the wall,
I wonder about what lives down the dark ravine:
Deadly, cunning, lovely, stunning.
And the bluejays call me out to fall
Where this house's spirit keeps the beast serene.
Across the meadow every hour
We hear the bells peal in the tower,
Calling us to feel the power
Of the lightning and the flower
That grows under the shower
Of the power from above.
Copyright 2004 NADJA MUSIC Reinaldo García
Lyrics: February 14, 1991 Springville, CA
Music: February 19, 1994 Monterey, CA