Up on top a mountain, over looking a running brook,
a little log cabin stands alone, smoke billowing through the pines.
I envision sitting there before a burning fire, eyes closed in dreams.
The simple life with only calm and solace in my soul.
I can hear the sound of the running brook as it flows over the rocks,
the sound of a chickadee responding to an owl's screech.
In my vision, I can see an old rocking chair, and yes, there's me,
my crocheting in my lap and a kitten at my feet, I rock and rock.
A little log cabin up on the mountain top, brook running below,
this peaceful vision, I will never see, nor that rocker be me.
Muted colors of browns, orange and greens, with splashes of blue,
this painting on my wall is the closest to that life I will see.
