THE WINDOWS

An ancient legend tells about an alpine boy whose folks
 Lived high upon a mountain top above the valley smoke.
The shining rays of morning sun danced on the town below,
 Showed windows made of solid gold beyond the ice and snow.
And every night he dreamed and prayed and hoped that one fine day
 He'd travel down that winding path, if he could find the way.
And touch those windows made of gold, and see the people there,
 Who sure must never have to work, or ever have a care.

And so one day he started out at sunrise clear and bright,
  The windows flashed their golden rays, just like a guiding light.
Scare taking time to see the flowers that swayed and waved near town,
  He hurried through the rippling grass, before the sun went down. 
And on the dusty windblown streets, folks hurried here and there,
  And no one saw the unknown child, or even seemed to care.
A kindly woman sensed his need, and helped him in his plight,
"The golden windows? There they are high on that mountain bright."
The sun shone on his own small home from rosy skies that night, 

And as the night breeze tucked the hills and flowers in for rest,
 A starry mantle covered all, a dream explained his quest.
 The gold he found in that small town lay in that heart so kind,
That gave him warmth and food and love, and cheered his worried mind.
 And helped him up the mountain side, where alpine flowers rare,
Brought gladness to a happy heart, a beauty all can share.
 And found through time that values true come from the heart within,
Where grows the kingdom of God's love,  A'midst the outward din.