Simple quiet times
Tangled in the soft old sheets
That comforted me from when I was very young.

Oatmeal with molasses,
Vanilla scented candles,
Garisson Keillor on the radio,
I feel at home.

I quietly calculate the problems,
As if my analyses of the national income
Will ever change the tax rates,
But it's what I must do now.

Slipping into sleepy dreams
I venture into a coloured world
Painted with grassy fields and love
And awake to a confusing moment
What day is it?

Days pass,
Moments blend together,
I age
People call and people leave.
I stay.
Alone with my mind.