Not a mansion. Not a shack.
A simple house on the shores.
The omnipresent, yet relaxing sound of waves in motion.
My acoustic guitar leaning on the wall next to the window.
Paradise breeze. 70 degrees. The sun gently radiates upon my coarse skin through fluffy clouds.
I look out and see the wet canvas which lays atop the Earth, bearing hues of blue and highlights of white.
As palm trees sway,
Leading my worries astray,
A Storm is on its way...