Today my shelter will be of the past
That one euphoric period of my being
Which today’s memoir tells me
Did not go on forever
It was a time with an inauspicious beginning
Or at least a past emerging from a darker past
To kick things, at least so I was thinking
As I struggled to find my way in
Instead I break off, go outside
To tear myself away from despondency
With no expectations, or baggage
And there I see a fresh morning in its glory
After what seems like weeks of rain
There is an absolute brightness
To the day, to the outlook
Such that my spirits are all immediately lifted
My belief in myself that I can survive
Indeed prosper in this thing we call life
Yet it is a view which I see almost every day
Yes so so very often I open that particular door
To step outside into our own little world
An old refurbished structure, once a stables
Now a sort of adults playroom
For writers, meditators, painters and musicians
A place where in a couple of hours
There will be bacon sandwiches and coffee
A time for writers to chat, to write, to chat
As if the world needs someone to sort it out
But, leading up to all of that cacophony
Which to some may be a symphony
I have the cool air to breathe
I have the new day to see in
