AN: Every time I think of Bilbo, I think of this poem. I wrote this while looking out my window in the beginning of spring.

Heart of the Shire

Endless fields of grass I see,
As I look through my windowpane,
Clothing vale and hill in green,
Deep as emerald, bright as Jade

A little further from my home,
The Water follows its swift course,
And meeting with the Brandywine,
Flows on its way out to the Sea

South a little, to the east,
The mighty forest of Buckland lies,
Very few have ventured there,
And fewer still return to tell

The people of my merry land,
Called Hobbits in this Middle-Earth,
As care-free as a summer's day,
But noble as a knight of men

In almost every street and lane,
Happy children run and play,
Hobbit boys and Hobbit girls,
Shining as the stars above

In straight neat rows our barley grows,
Used to make a hearty brew,
Fit for service to the King,
And for a Hobbit's supper too

Pipe weed in abundance grown,
By Old Toby in Longbottom,
if ever you're in need of Leaf,
He'll fix a pouch up just for you

At night the sky is filled with gems,
To tell us of the tales of old,
And in the morning, sunrise glows,
With light and colors clear and fair

With all the wonders of my home,
I wonder why my dreams of late,
Look far beyond the borders to
The Sea beneath the starry sky

I must away 'ere break of day,
To follow the great Elven Lords,
Away to distant lands unknown
To this Bilbo of the Shire