House of Wood

I entered a house of wood
kept warm by wood.
And in my father's father's house I stood.

And in the house roots remained
tangled, they remained.
And as it rained the house was stained.

For the house stopped growing years ago
stumps were made years ago.
Now brothers and sons grafted slow.

And there my father's father sat
bended, there he sat.
For his roots were still in tact.

He led me through the house of roots
my fathers' tangled roots.
With me he watered hopeful fruits.