Over the Moat

 

The solititude of being inside

is where I love to hide

It is my own precious place

where I have all my space

Books, pictures and photographs

where I never need stifle a laugh

Music plays and food is cooked

and ready to eat before I have looked

The dogs lie in glorious state

warm and cosy before the grate

The silence of this beautiful place

is where I love to grace

 

To read, to listen, to contemplate

often until it is quite late

I beg the phone not to ring

it is a blasted thing

The phone, the door bell do intrude

both are equally quite rude

A glass of full bodied red wine

purchased from the finest vine

A pipe is filled and ready to smoke

the clock it does an hour stroke

The piano invites me to play

no matter what the neighbours might say

 

The bathroom beckons, come and bathe

with barely any effort I lie and laze

Candles are lit all around

a therapeutic atmosphere found

Peace, quiet and tranquility are here

perhaps I should open a beer

The world outside is left behind

and all that is so unkind

My sanctuary closes in

as I comfortably settle in

A film or a book maybe

I can choose whatever I want to see

 

There is no need for haste

I am here to eat and taste

To drink a good red wine

and then leisurely to dine

My home is my dearest refuge

a place not too grand or huge

It has become my personal domain

and all that I wish to retain

It is my most cherished abode

where I can sit and unload

Home is the only place to be 

where I am wonderfully free