In my own little world

In my own little world1

(a story of my safe place)2

by Tisha Underwood3

The sky is gray, my favorite color, as I look to the skies above.  I love the smell of autumn half way thru the season.  The leaves are all browns and reds and are few and far between.  They fell not to long ago during the changing of the leaves.  My dad once explained it to me, the changing of the leaves, but you can never truly understand it till you have seen it first hand.  The stream is still flowing, tho not for long.  As soon as the winter snows come it will freeze over.  This place is my soul, a place I long to stay.  A small little rustic cottage hidden away in the trees.  No one for miles, no one to ever come take me away.4

I always arrive right here in the yard.  The birds singing and the deer sleeping near by in the brush.  A fire in the fireplace and the smell of warm espresso waiting for me.  Sometimes I love to just stand here and take in all my surroundings.  The trees, animals, smells and,  something that is hard to explain.  It is a feeling I get that I can not get anywhere else.5

I head for the door saying good day to the birds.  As I open the door I realize even the knob is warm to the touch.  My cottage is alive within me.6

As I stand in the door way I look around, so cozy and comfy.  I change into a big nightshirt left in the closet and head for the sweet smell of that espresso.  Made to perfection every time.  With cup in hand I walk to the fireplace.  Crackling embers burn and warm even my soul.  They speak to me and thank me for being apart of “it” all.  I grab the fuzzy blanket, left there for me, and cuddle up on the couch, just my espresso and me.7