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| Through the night the cold wind blows, Across the rolling hills of snow. The stars twinkle brightly high in the sky, And the great tall pine trees, Sway and sigh. The moon shines above us, Cold and bare. I reach for your hand, So I'll know your still there. Then I see through the trees, Our home standing still. Beckoning warmly, Our hearts to fill. Because no matter, How barren and cold, Things may seem in our world. Thank God we have a Place to come home to, A place to call our own. �Dawn Schultz 2000-2002 |
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