Love warms the sunshine of my inner joy.
Going back I hoped something could be found,
of what lingers inside a barefoot boy,
and what use to be on this sacred ground.
I remember the barn with great haymow;
my mothers soft heart and my dad’s rough hands
tilling all day the rolling fields with the plow,
and the determined love farm life demands.
If only I could paint this scene with my heart.
Very few places create such a bond
as this hayloft door framing life’s great art,
which holds the beauty of the world beyond.
The unforgettable sustaining ways
of a heart endearing those golden days.
Beauty comes and goes, but the darkness stays.
So remember dearly the things you praise.
Let it be so, how sweet, it is to be
in love enamored with eternity.
Where life is more divine than memory,
the smallest things fulfill our destiny.
Memories of the past will then confer
the utmost munificence of the small.
Knowing now, just how precious, those things were;
sometimes, with so little, you have it all.