Ownership
Independence
A feeling of peacefulness.
A place
all mine,
no one else’s.
Moist
Damp
Cool
During the dog days
of summer.
Protected from
the angry rays
of the searing sun
by the big, lumbering
branches of the old
pine trees.
A smell like
no other.
Fresh
Clean
Crisp
Like Christmas.
Pine cones
litter
the dirt covered earth,
swept away by
mom's old
kitchen broom.
The bursts of air,
as a particularly persistent gust,
dodges the cumbersome
branches.
Old rugs
salvaged from the
neighborhood garbage piles,
blanket the dust covered
earth,
adding vibrant colors
to the monotone hues of
nature.
This my place.
A place to call my own.