A COTTAGE SMALL

I do not ask much for my latter years,
A small cottage to call my very own,
With a wicket fence and some firs,
A small garden where food can be grown.

An inglenook fire place, cozy and warm
To sit by at the end of a winter day,
Pretty chintz curtains, that can be drawn
To help keep the ice cold at bay.

Nothing fancy, I don’t need a lot,
Just a table and chair in the kitchen
And a rocking chair in the right spot,
A cat that would purr under my chin.

But these are just sweet, silly dreams
Of a lost wondering, worn out soul,
But in heaven, there’ll be, it seems,
A cottage small, a warm fire of coal.

A wicket fence and maybe an apple tree,
Built in heaven by a kind God above
For a wondering daughter, who’s not free
To have her wish now, yet will through love.

I do not want a mansion dear Lord,
Just my cottage small and a garden
With blossoms to give to you Lord.
Then I know I’d be in my Eden.

M Ann Margetson Nov 26 1998 ©
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