A New Place

 

The newest of sounds,

in the newest of places,

in unfamiliar creaks and

mysterious thuds.

 

A new place to call home,

to rest my head,

to put away the things

of troubled times.

 

A new canvass on which to

paint the very image of new

contentment, rather than the tired

Dorian Gray portrait of depression.

 

The relish of which I can now

traipse from room to room in unhindered

happiness, away from the noise and smells

of so many others, crammed in their own depressions.

 

Each noise is an adventure,

each morning a surprise,

each night an experiment,

each day something different.

 

A whole new place to

rest my tired head,

a space all of my own,

into a new stage of life I go.

 

The rush of a new floor underfoot,

the peace of a place in which

I am the director of destiny,

and unbeholden to any other whims.

 

Potentials present in every dream

of lazy summers in a yard hung hammock,

or cooling sitting in central cooled air,

or cooing coolly with a cool chickadee.

 

The newest of new,

all for me,

untapped, unseen,

in my new surrounds.