There is a Room At the End of the Hall

There is a room at the end of the hall,

Most days of the year there is no one in it at all,

That will go into inspired French country decor,

And witness the serenity behind the closed door.

It is properly cleaned, dusted, and kept pleasing to the eye,

In case a dear friend should impromptu stop by.

It has a beautifully kept secret that no one can know,

Unless you wake up in that pale green room's glow.

There is a sun bright, each day that will enter the room,

In the wee early hours of dawn's morning bloom,

That starts your day happy whether you need it or not,

And lights up your mind with possibilities you've got,

Hidden in your heart or in that head that is spinning,

Waiting to unfold and start your mind living.

A view to the nature outside if you look,

The deer, turkeys, foxes, and bear, while you cook,

Up ideas of the fun you can have and create,

When you let your mind fly and decide to demonstrate,

The gifts you were given so freely to share,

To a world that needs to know you, to know you were here.

Makes you glad you stopped in and decided to visit,

To unlock your vision that had clouds with some limits.

From a bustling life full of technology and dates,

To wake up here in the country where time always waits,

For you to make the next move, for it is your choice,

To sleep in with comfort and or go out with your voice.

Or move on with the dream that you carefully planned,

But somehow got side tracked, unintentionally canned.

But now in the sunlight of another great day,

In the country with nature, dreams no longer astray,

You reset, you refocus, you revitalize and go,

You are renewed, awakened to possibilities you know,

The only thing stopping you from living your dream,

Is not getting up, getting up, and trying again.

That if you keep doing the thing you are gifted,

Your life will begin to reveal the life you have scripted.

A night in the country with sunrise in your eyes,

Makes the world more exciting and you, eager to rise,

In the warm yellow sunlight that through window crept in,

With a colorful "Good Morning, Good Morning My Friend."

There is a room at the end of the hall,

Most days of the year there is no one in it at all.