Cabin of My Dreams

 

There is a cabin of my dreams

To which I often go,

Sometime amid the Autumn leaves

Or nestled in the snow.

It's close beside a crystal stream,

Wherein I often swim,

And there are deer who never mind

That I am watching them.

There is a cabin of my dreams,

Rustic, quaint and small,

And yet I feel when I am there

I surely have it all.

It has two ample windows

Through which the sunlight streams,

And when dusk falls, the honeysuckle

Drifts into my dreams.

There is no need to lock the door,

No one lives out this far,

And I do very well indeed

Without a bus or car.

I've spent some happy hours

On that bench beneath the trees,

My homemade bread is sweetened

With wild honey from the bees.

Because one cannot see it

Doesn't mean it isn't there,

It is my secret refuge

From a world so full of care.

Within its walls an atmosphere

Of true simplicity,

And we are one, who dwell within,

...My little dog and me.

~ Grace E. Easley