Our little house where the point meets the shore, A little different from the rest, sandstone brown. Our window, a view of endless ships that sail, Summer's day bliss, winter's nightingale. Our town much quieter, just a single road, Hills that slope steeply till they find the shore. Not much traffic, not much noise, As the lapping of the waves turns into a song. We've walked the roads that take us high, Dirt beneath our feet as we meet the evening sky. Looking down on land so at peace, The hills at our back, the sea at our feet. Our valleys and rivers, our hills and our glens, Our little house at the shore's end. As night falls and darkness gathers our souls, We are at peace in a world of our own. We've walked the roads that take us high, Dirt beneath our feet as we meet the evening sky. Looking down on land so at peace, The hills at our back, the sea at our feet. The hills at our back - the sea at our feet.,,,, Andy.B 20.10.004
