My dwelling.

I set foot inside and hear the cry of the cat meowing, ploughing my neck with her paws, purring, and stirring around my ankles.

Puffy, fluffy cushions lie beside the fire, beckoning me with their warmth and softness to the point where I'm reckoning a long sleep.

Doors shut cocooned into the sanctity of my home as the cat distracted cleans her paws, walking on her toes as the fire gently roars.

The aroma of aftershave as he enters the dwelling permeates the air and lingers as the ringer on the kettle squeals and reveals the excitement I feel for real.

Home is where love is, a familiar cove for two souls to connect and reflect, never to detect any harm but only calm enveloped in a balm of harmony.

My home is commodious and relaxing, never refraining from framing my peace and tranquillity. A place of predictability, passivity, passion, positivity, and possibility.