Once I dreamed of room~
a room filled with lemony light.
Filmy curtains that billowed in the breeze,
and allowed sunlight to fall upon the oak floors.
Floors that looked like dark honey
in the places where the oriental rug did not hide its deep color.
The rug was old, but its beauty could still be seen in its faded jewel tones.
Upon that rug sat a large, overstuffed chair and ottoman.
On that chair sat a woman, drinking tea, knitting a scarf, listening~
to the man at the piano across the room.
He was scratching out notes with paper and pencil,
then matching the keys to the notes.
The clock on the mantel made a comforting sound,
and the cat sat in a patch of sunlight and licked his paws.
This was my perfection~