If the train stops along the way
We could disappear for a holiday
Get lost in the wood
Build a cabin, should we?
Modest and comfy
Nuzzled in the corner as a fire sets
The smell of pine
Fills the lungs
Books read are the ones we wrote
No other minds but our own
Lost in eyes
Another layer commences
Transcendence into a pocket dimension
Dialogue through blank stares
All that is needed there
This cabin of thought
The one we devised
Could be visited at anytime
Both you and I hold the keys
Meet me there whenever you think of me