The life goes on
As it always does
Our job is to let it
Without any fuss
So we have got it all
Almost everything
The work, the fun
And the family thing
So there’s not much
That i really demand
Except a little something
Maybe which i want
No its not anything
Which is fancy or frill
It is just a small house
On the top of the hill
A house made of dreams
Wooden Logs and snow
Milky way forms the roof
With the stars lying low
Where windows open up
To see the weather play
Where clouds are the guests
At any time of the day
A place where there
will be no time to kill
All i now really want is
A small house on the hill
A house whose doorsteps
Will roll the rivers down
A house whose living room
Won’t let anyone frown
Snow fall will bring along
The flakes of old memories
And the gossip will flow
On the petals of the breeze
Dandelions will line up
To welcome the guests
Apple trees will ensure
The never ending fests
The droplets of mist
to wake the mornings up
The chilly evening winds
to warm the hot chocolate cup
Where even a lazy afternoon
Will match up to all the thrill
All i now really want is
A small house on the hill
Where both sunset and Sunrise
Will be occasions in themselves
Where dullness will be just word
In some book kept in the shelves
Where horizon will be the mark
For morning and evening walks
Where the chirping of the birds
Will be a big part of the talks
Where sun rain snow wind all
Will be more than just good friends
Where resources may be finite
But awesomeness never ends
I just want that place
Where life fits up to its bill
All i now really want is
A small house on the hill
Where you can hear what
The air keeps telling the flower
Where you can see the disdain
Of the grass waiting for shower
Where you can listen clearly
The language of quiet
Where the rainbow never goes
Even out of your sight
Where beauty is a norm
And not exception
Where peace is a form
And not perception
A place with enough water
For both jack and jill
All i now really want is
A small house on the hill
Also Read: Known Paths Make Beautiful Photographs; Unknown Trails Make The Best Stories