The House That Bob Built

To begin my poem, there are no words.
My feeble attempts are for the birds;
Not just a house of lumber and nails,
But precious memories and tales
Come from the House That Bob Built.

This man is gifted in many ways,
For never were there boring days.
Four girls he fathered, then his son;
I had it best, in lines, I’m “one,”
Born in the House That Bob Built.

The man is born of flesh and bone,
With a heart that has forever grown
To love the children, gifts from God,
Equipping them, this earth to trod.
A legacy of the House That Bob Built.

Although the years have flown right by;
Keeping us laughing, sometimes we sigh,
But never will his light go out,
His legacy lives, there is no doubt,
Because we’re the House That Bob Built.