cozy little rocking chair

In my cabin out in the Canadian wild,
the sun seeps through the hazy unwashed windows,
and with its reflections,
an array of colors are brought forth.

Colors that subtly hit the old pine flooring,
which carries a smell that would remind a -redwood of the good ol’ days,

Smells that bring to me hints of spring and
that cozy little rocking chair,

the one that sways back and forth in my spiraling mind.

Smells that remind me that there is
no cabin.
no pine flooring.
no remnants of spring.

Just empty thoughts that make way to
words,
and poetry,
and song,
and love,
and sadness,
and lust,
and pain,
and bliss.

Just empty thoughts and empty scenarios
      that make me feel human,
            at least for now.