Contentment is...

It is a beautiful night

to be completely

solitary.

I'll bet it's a perfect

evening back home.

I'll bet the sun is 

sinking into an ocean

of magenta waves.
And I remember....

The scent of leaves

tickles my nostrils.

The trees are whispering.

A slow smile plays

on my rosy lips.

My acoustic rests

on my cozy frame.

I am fingering the

comfortingly familiar

chords, humming softly. 

I sink deeper into the 

front porch glider,

kicking off with 

my right foot. 

Swinging,

singing,

swaying. 

My oversized sweater

hangs loosely, and I

feel every current as

the breeze caresses me.

I have caught a chill,

but this would not be

the first time.

Sometimes it is 

refreshing to feel.

As the stars fight

against the city light,

I pause. 

I stare up at infinity,

wishing to be.

Wishing to understand.

Wishing to be understood.

But I am perfectly content here.

A cup of coffee and guitar

are all I need.

I am wiser than last autumn.

I am not afraid anymore.

Yes, I am sure it is a

perfect evening back home.

But it is a perfect evening

in Chicago, because I am

exactly where

I need to be. 

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012