Sanctuary

Falling asleep at the wheel again, dear?
Don't you just miss the smell of the grass in the morning, and the lovely sight of seagulls down the bridge?
Don't you miss the sound of the crying teapot, and the taste of freedom on top of my canvas?
Don't you miss the laughter that bursts between us, echoing all over the room, until the moon rises near the mountains?
To curl up alone under the faint moonlight, to sing along to nature's orchestra.
As long as we're inhaling the same oxygen dear, this is our sacred haven.