This is something I wrote decades ago and thought some stoners here might appreciate it!
Cabin Fever
by (warezaholic) 1995
I’ll buy a spread of land someday, so lovely and serene.
Somewhere quiet; Somewhere safe; And definitely green!
I’ll find it on a map somewhere, perhaps the deep northwest.
Or maybe on the coast of Maine, like Norman Rockwell's’ best!
I’ll clear a path down to the edge of the of the sea or lake or stream,
and line the trail with painted stones, like the stitches on a seam.
I’ll build a home just big enough for two, or three or four.
And put a Franklin Fireplace in the middle of the floor.
I’ll look to find a place to fish, and waste my final days;
An open spot with sun so warm, I’ll drift in dreamy haze.
I’ll grow a garden in the yard,”that if my health is good”.
But, if it’s not, then I’ll just do, the things an old man should.
I’ll spend my evenings writing at a Mac or Packard Bell;
and maybe someday I’ll get published, one can never tell!
I’ll take some pictures of the trees all red and gold in fall;
and send some copies to my kids and ask “why don’t you call”?
I’ll bring in wood on winter nights to keep the fire hot.
Then read a Kipling verse or to and watch the news a lot.
I’ll call the grand kids on the phone, discuss their grades in school.
And next day, take a drive to town and maybe buy a tool.
I’ll get a hair cut while I’m there and do the shopping tool.
And think of “after I get home,” what I forgot to do!
I’ll get my tackle out for spring to salvage rusty hooks.
And read the Farmers Almanac and other fishing books.
I’ll pull out all my old CDs to play some music loud,
to fight the cabin fever off and lift the gloomy cloud.
I’ll get the Segrams off the shelf and microwave some soup
and take the pint outside with me and drink it on the stoop.
I’ll look down at the waters edge all muddy from the rain
and dream of all the I’ll catch, when summer comes again.