By Simbo Rumblebelly So open up the weathered little door The wooden beams reach to the creaking floor There lies inside a fading welcome mat And nearby is a stand to hang some hats Fine pictures line the narrow passageway An aging clock that ticks the time each day And vases full of roses, red and white Beside the doorways leading left and right A table, chairs all neatly put aside A wooden chest, its secrets locked inside A line of books all bound in coats of red Await a time that they all may be read A fireplace waiting patiently, a chance To grow once more, and make its fiery dance For silence seldom stalks inside the rooms What flame inside will glow to clear the gloom? For this is more than just an empty shell Not just a house, not just a place to dwell This place is more than pretty painted halls What brings to life the home inside its walls? It's not a home 'til someone steps inside And throws the door, in greeting, open wide You can't say welcome with a welcome mat You'll need someone inside to take your hat! An empty nest is just a mound of sticks An empty house is just a stack of bricks No magic ever weaves a life from stone The Hobbit is what makes a burrow home Some information about the artist: Master Simbo is a famous poet around the Shire. When not preoccupied with collecting and eating pies, Master Simbo works on expanding his collection of self-written poems. He is a regular visitor of the Green Dragon, where on fridaynights he may be found willing to recite some of his work. Master Simbo is also a gifted musician and actor. He also is the initiator and promoter of synchronised dancing, giving classes and performances with his Dancing Troupe. |
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