First I sweep the rooms and halls, like a thousand times before
Then I mop and rinse and polish, see the shine upon the floor
Oft’ times I failed to notice it, the grain of ancient oak
That grew a hundred years ago, then cut by hardy folk
Who lived to build this little town, constructing things of worth
And kept the winters warm inside, by bringing coal from earth
If you think about it much at all, if you take time to consider
It’s almost magic what was saved, and how it fits together
We live on riches made by those, who’ve gone to their rewards
The highways and the roads their work, the Chevys and the Fords
A moment’s quiet time alone, to weigh it all and ponder
Is tonic for the jaded soul. Look closely and remember.
copyright 2016
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