A place to learn the strings, A corner to eat up the books, A wall to paint my thoughts on.
A vase to hold the ephemeral buds and blooms, A mirror to see within, A window to see beyond.
A shelf with the lingering smell of polished dusty wood, A corner in the shelf to keep all that has ever been.
A pillow to wipe the tears of perpetual grief. A bed that beckons me to find refugee in the silence.
A chrysalis to dwell in dreams, A chrysalis to seek the embers of my existence.