My quiet place would be
A candle-lit meadow in my mind
Where surrounding bare trees
Reach out to hug all who enter
Animal footprints indistinctly trail
Being older than time
While the scent of cinnamon buns
Wriggles through the air
As if an anxious toddler
The frostbitten leaves
Crunch under my feet
As the snow drifts slowly down
To join the waiting blanket
So sweet
