The Author's space consisted of lavender walls.
Hardwood Floors.
A stack of books for the night stand.
Coffee stained mugs on the dining table.

It had paintings of all sorts.
Not yet bloomed plants scattered here and there.
An orange Afghan lay across the leather couch.
Muddied boots by the door.

Now the author's house.
A whole other story.
Blank white walls.
White carpeted floors.
Clean tables.
Glass nightstands.

But as the Author wrote in his notebook.
The white velvet couch changed to worn leather.
His Styrofoam cup turned to stained ceramic.
His glass nightstand now old paperbacks.

His  imagination now working wonders.