There is a little wood house

On a hill so steep

Surrounded by trees

And a fog so deep

It sits all day long

And all night, as well

But for what it waits for

Only time can tell

Many times I have wondered

What it does to past the days

Maybe it talks to the trees

And learns their forest ways

Maybe it sleeps

With the clouds in the sky

Maybe it hears

The wolves evening cry

Maybe it waits

For a human to hold

In it's strong wooden walls

That have stood since day old

We can wonder forever

But it will never be known

What the little wood house

Thinks of, all alone