The cold snow anchors the doors,
A breeze snips at the nose of life,
Inside those doors a fire burns,
lighting the house like an ember inside a translucent urn.
The smells fly through,
The thrills of life, time and all that is mine
calm for just a moment or two.
Embraced with hands of tender love,
I tell my family not to shove.
The meal is plenty,
the time is nigh,
make your plate filled with warm rye,
sit and enjoy life
for tomorrow is just another lie.