My Cabin of Dreams

 

It stands on a hill, my Cabin of Dreams,

And touches each lure of the sky -

And all that is fine of boulder and vine,

No log and no stone will deny.

It's simple and humble - each window is small -

Its roof is the bark of a tree,

But never a castle has ever been built

Whose dreams are more fonder to me.

 

There is not a gate where strangers must wait

For judgment of mission or aim;

The path to its door no step will deplore -

All strangers are welcomed the same.

Its timbers are rustic; its rafters are bold;

It tells of the meadow and mire,

But Heaven can only compare to the dreams

That live by the glow of its fire.

 

Yet all of this bounty I cannot divide

With friends whom I dearly adore;

And all of the riches God gave to my hearth

I cannot bequeath from its store.

A vestige of Heaven each friend may enjoy -

Each comfort and pleasure is free -

But I am the builder and dreamer of dreams

God gave to my cabin and me.

 

~ Michael Dubina