Little House on the Hill…

Small and worn at the end of a road,
Less like a prince, more like a toad.
Humble and simple, plain as could be,
But I grew on it, and it grew on me.

Complaining at first, I wanted to leave,
Used to the best, it caused me to grieve.
More of a hovel than ever a home,
How fond of it, I surely have grown.

We shared great love and happiness there,
Suffered through hardships too grim to bear.
Learned more of life and what matters most,
Had I a glass, I’d raise a toast!

Deep in my heart, it lies like a treasure,
Valued much more than could be measured.
Just a small house sitting high on a hill,
Thoughts of it still bring me a thrill.