From My Dreams

A quaint little cottage on the hillside
With a warm fire burning in the hearth,
And a little window to peer outside.

A cozy rocking chair with a soft quilt,
And a mug of freshly brewed coffee
Placed on a small wooden side table.

A book about magic, fairies, and elves,
A carpet of verdant green in the vale,
The yonder hills wearing a misty veil.

And, me, curled up in that cozy chair
With no deadlines to chase that day,
Just taking in the fresh mountain air.

Sipping the hot coffee from the mug,
Reading, from the book, a happy tale
With my feet on a plush, woolly rug.

This is the place I visit when I sleep,
A place that’s warm, like your embrace,
This beautiful place is from my dreams.

The Portrait

‘Twas the portrait that did him in.
The night was cloudy and stormy.
And, darkness shrouded the cottage
Where he worked as a servant.

But, his heart was even darker,
For, in reality, he was a burglar.
As he stuffed his bag with silver,
Lightning flashed with thunder.

It was at that moment he saw it!
Her portrait above the mantelpiece.
She seemed to stare straight at him
With the piercing eyes of the living.

As the light crackled in the window,
He saw her smile with an “I know.”
Across the skies, the thunder rolled,
As he started sweating in that cold.

His bag grew heavier with treasure,
And he tried to escape from her.
“I know! I know!” Her shrieks echoed,
As he made a mad dash for the door!

The next morning, the police arrived.
Near the door steps, a man had died.
The medical report said, “Cardiac Arrest.”
‘Twas the fourth, in the haunted cottage.