Isadora's Home

[Verse]
On the porch, Isadora plays her fiddle,
Sun setting low, casting a golden riddle,
Old hound by her side, loyal and true,
In the fields where wildflowers grew.
[Verse 2]
Her hands are worn, from the work and the soil,
Years of plowing fields, and toiling in the boil,
But her heart's as big as the Tennessee sky,
And her spirit's as free as a whippoorwill's cry.
[Chorus]
Isadora knows the rhythm of the land,
With every morning sun and a touch of her hand,
She finds her strength in the simple and the plain,
In Isadora's home, love's like the rain.
[Verse 3]
Barn walls stained with stories untold,
Photographs of family in frames of gold,
Her laughter echoes down the gravel road,
In the place where the seeds of love are sowed.
[Verse 4]
Evenings are filled with songs and fireflies,
Underneath a blanket of moonlit skies,
The stars above seem to understand,
The life and love in her small hands.
[Chorus]
Isadora knows the rhythm of the land,
With every morning sun and a touch of her hand,
She finds her strength in the simple and the plain,
In Isadora's home, love's like the rain.