Inner Peace and Gratitude

Tonight, the world is quiet. Just the scratch of my pen

and the flame's dance. A leather-bound journal lies open, its pages waiting

for the weight of my heart. Beside it, a single beeswax candle flickers,

casting long, soft shadows against the wood. Outside the window, the twilight snow

falls silently, a cold reminder of the past. I sit here in the amber

glow, finding a sanctuary within these four walls. My hand rests

gently on the page, holding a vintage pen that has seen much.

I find peace in the small things. The warmth. The quiet.