An artist’s great masterpiece, monument to family
Safe haven and hospice, a refuge for comfort and growth
A place of stability, transformation and magic
Where generations of memories and love fill the air
A man built a house with his with his own two hands.
A foundation of dreams and believing it stands.
Born of blazing flames in his heart and soul,
an excited fire raging out of control.
He believed, he wept. A part of him died,
with each time that the real and unreal would collide.
The hard work of magic will take its toll.
He’ll never forget his dream-come-true served its role.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
Dream big, never stop dreaming, anything is possible
Four generations of family, love, shouts and laughter
Ever-growing halls, nooks and crannies, self-renewing rooms
The dream never stopped growing, nor the family loving
As any dream-come-true has to begin:
vision and passion like a germ growing within.
It had to take substance, had to be done.
With a bag full of sugar the job was begun.
He didn’t know then that it would take years,
that he’d love it and hate it and face all his fears.
Knots grew inside him till he couldn’t sleep;
At night he’d hold his strong hands to his face and weep.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
Where children’s children were raised, sisters-aunts, daughters-nieces
Brothers-uncles, mom dad-Grammy Poppy, where all came home
And filled the house, artist, each other and the dream with love
Magical interplay saturated with memories
An artist’s imagination and gift,
with sweat and blood required from dream to life uplift.
Fiery love got him through feeling alone,
and the strength in the walls is the strength of his soul.
A man and woman grew a family.
The house became a home and place of gathering,
shared with relatives, friends, neighbors and more.
Their love filled the halls and greeted all at the door.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
Come together to be with each other and be silly
Celebrate, dance, sing, hug and kiss; fight, make up, and party
Climb my roof, ride my laundry chute, build forts and make movies
Not a moment was wasted, the house was played with by all
Time after time his dream-come-true came true:
the man, artist, spouse, dad, uncle and Poppy too,
who dreamt for joy, smiles and all to have fun,
reaped many times the harvests from his seeds of love.
A moment of chance: how could he have known.
His vision realized and his family grown;
his dream’s purpose and end finally found.
That moment of chance: he burned his dream to the ground.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
A man built a house with his with his own two hands.
A foundation of dreams and believing it stands.
Born of blazing flames in his heart and soul,
an excited fire raging out of control.
He believed, he wept. A part of him died,
with each time that the real and unreal would collide.
The hard work of magic will take its toll.
He’ll never forget his dream-come-true served its role.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
From dream to life and back again, and back again, and back again.
*Adapted in part from “A Man, A House, a Dream,” by my mother
