“The little cottage that could, standing tall in the middle of nowhere, never small, but big at heart, daring in weather of all, for years, millennia perhaps, who knows.” Gun Roswell

A house sits on the barren island
Waiting for its summer friends
Exited, exhilarated, hoping, that
Soon, they’ll be arriving, from the mainland

On the look out through the lens
Many a lonely days was spent
Eternal fire always burning

For the long awaited to be returning
Rejoicing of the pending arrival
Impatience its only ally
Evening turning to morning
Now, the friend are returning
Damned be all fear
Summer, is finally here