The wavering mystical man decided to carry his bag to the place he knew so well
                                           his chair that sits like an indivisable, inseparable part of his living room
that is the centre of his universe and the warm of his comforts
                                            he decided most days to relish in his most cozy of cushions
but today was a special day, he had used his soft scarf and his well worn hat
                                it was the day for the mink blanket oh yes. Next to the fire that lights his happy face.
In his heart, chocolate melts, in his eyes, champagne is spilt.
                                the book shelves flicker with a giggle in their pages
the stove top quietly whistles, twisting with the most delightful smells
                                      The rain outside, drumming to his hum, his feet kicking and tapping his thumb
its all okay, alone and happy to be, the chair, the man, his blanket and his tea.