My Space
I love my little hide a way, my own space to escape the troubles of the day.
yet an elbow and your arm can be out stretched.
four by six and built of bricks.
now patchwork wood lines the floor and adorns the walls.
The added insulation was not my intention at all, but a place
to hang my tools.
home-made bench and vice all types of electrical devise.
The scent of sawdust laces the air, Beach Elm and new felled pine
makes ones senses feel lost in time, but not for today as I just sit here
trying to shake of the anxiety that for some reason unknown has been
my shadow blighting me all day.
So just me hidden in my own little place, no frown or smile adorns my face
just me my absent thoughts and flask of tea gazing at not just the shelves and brackets, but the hundreds of items stacked high aloft.
each one has a story to tell, trinkets and treasures some family air-looms
bits and pieces and bits are just junk, but you keep, for one day that junk
will transform a room or help fix a broom.
Yes I adore my little hide-a-way here I find my sanctuary.
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