By David Roth
© 21st February, 2005
A welcome hole in the mist,
It rests on a man-made island
In a maze of man-made rivers
Reflected in the gentle ripples
Brushed from bank to bank
By a passing swan.
Delicate as a mountain faierie,
It stares at me through ancient wooden eyes
Framed in hunter-green eyebrows,
Capped by a full head of woven thatch,
Thick as the hair of a newborn babe.
Wisps of smoke trundle skyward
Whispering welcome home
To all who see it.
Here I return to rekindle the fires
Of my ebbing soul.
Cottage of dreams, calls to me
In the dark despair of my melancholy,
Here my soul finds respite from the turbulence,
And peace in the midst of the storm.
