I’m building a place for you to live,
a dwelling for you out in the world.
You’ve been under my wing for quite a while,
but it’s time you got a home, your own.
There visitors can come and find
beyond your open door
you singing softly, sweetly, still
as you have done before.
I’ll visit you and see you there,
but so will many more,
to hear you singing high and low,
the steady songs you’ll pour.
Through years they’ll hear your bobbing echoes;
so again will I,
time lending birth a different man,
for you to fortify.