I sit on my bed that is made from a door
My feet on a rug neatly placed on the floor
The wood burner glows as a log does ignite
I gaze at the warmth of its flickering light
Shadows move freely like spirits at play
The rain on the roof washing daytime away
A spiral of smoke rises up to the skies
As the flames come alive in my eyes
Inside the Bluebird, a magical place
My very own home and my very own space
No more am I lonely and never more free
An Indian's eyes they look down upon me
Telling me I should give thanks for this day
The spirits will chant all my worries away
Sandalwood incense that hangs in the air
I breathe in to heal and repair
Ian Duquemin
Image : Pinterest
