Haven

Bordered by four blue walls,
an abode for a stuggling
writer, musician, and computer scientist.

Some call her a genius
but she doesn't guite agree
With talent, maybe, but
definitely not a genius.

Here, ideas flow from
a seasonally creative mind.
Writing, writing, writing and typing.
Pen gliding across the paper,
fingers flying on the keyboard.

Taking inspiration from the
Chinese lantern hanging,
reminding her that
life is beautiful, indeed.

A white desk that was formerly
her parents' dresser with a mirror;
she and her brother
would watch themselves dance
when they were seven.
When days were carefree.

A cabinet that had seemed so huge,
she fit inside when she was small.
The one with the trapdoor,
she had pretended to have hidden treasures.
The one she has been using
as far as she could ever remember.

Shoes and socks lay
sprawled on the floor,
taken off of tired feet,
tired from a long day.
She can fix them later
after she had rested a bit first.
On the bed with the soft, comfortable, pillows.