I'm lying on the floor. On the edge of the carpet. Wrapped in fleece. Trying to sleep. Except that I'm really actually looking at the footprints in the dust on the hardwood that blew through the open window. That I'm really listening to "Bookends" without really listening at all. Because acoustic guitar is just part of the background. Because that's just where I'm from.
And I'm writing this down on the space that's my mind. And aware of my breath and the things that unwind. Listening to "Blue Jean Blues" without really listening. Because that's just the way I am.
Needing this place. Some time just to breathe. A break from the best and a place for my dreams. Listening to "Old Love" without really listening. Because that's just where I'm at. Needing to be alone, wrapped in fleece and trying to sleep.
Wishing you were here.