New home and cold hearth

O! When I walk under the shade of dense trees,
The branches touch my shoulders.
I still feel that touchy tease,
I try to bend over but those are not my trees.
Will this hearth of mine warm again though?
An amiable indigene might light this firewood.
Will the chimney puff out the exuberant smoke?

O! When I walk across the meadows,
The dew and petals in harmony wet and brighten me from feet to soul.
I still feel the tickle of the season pristine and serene.
I try to swing my feet but that is not my dew.
Will this hearth of mine warm again though?
An amiable indigene might light this firewood.
Will the chimney puff out the exuberant smoke?

O! How I admire the Forsyth’s and Judas,
The luscious fragrance and color make me dance with the hues.
I still smell the whimsical treasure vase.
I try to rejoice but those are not my Forsyth’s and Judas.
Will this hearth of mine warm again though?
An amiable indigene might light this firewood.
Will the chimney puff out the exuberant smoke?

Away from home makes me feel,
like a bird with cut wings.
Cage studded with jewels and a gold bell that does peal.
Free sky to flutter but a broken heart that cannot heal.
Will this hearth of mine warm again though?
An amiable indigene might light this firewood.
Will the chimney puff out the exuberant smoke?