There is a cabin of my dreams
To which I often go,
Sometimes 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 the bench beneath the trees,
My homemade bread is sweetened
With wild honey from the bees.

Because one can't see it
Doesn't mean it isn't there,
It is my secret refuge
From a world so full of care.

Within its wall an atmosphere
Of true simplicity,
And we are the ones who dwell within
My little dog and me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Grace E. Easley ~