It's Not a Tree House - My Quiet Place

My quiet place is high above the maddening haste and I can go there at my leisure, to this five story back yard walk-up, and On the platform of this wooden stair castle in-the-air-deck, I Can look over the city, awed at the wonders I see and write about. The telephone is turned off to my delight and the only sounds Are my sighs from time to time, and the whistle of the tea kettle. No plants to water, no pets to feed, just me, pencils, pads and My special someone, who says his sole purpose in life Is to make me happy. I stay here as long as I desire, in this quiet place writing, and best of all, He only plays the music I want to hear…Frank Sinatra, singing anything. It's not a tree house that hides me From the world; I ignore Yellow jackets so they won't sting Watch butterflies adored. It's Not a tree house, inflated Balloon, my quiet place; I love, laugh, write here, time is naught, sun caresses my face!