SIlence Massaged my Brain

Outside it remains cold. A thorough chill that penetrates insulation. Cold to the core, where quick conversations and muted deliberations exist. Inside and up thirteen steps a husband and wife lay in bed watching old standup Cosby movies. Laughing to distract the cold, and the time that remains until the next day. Down thirteen stairs and halfway through the hallway a small dog lays on her back, unconcerned with the creaks and moans of the aging house. Down the hall and in the kitchen a clock ticks, and in between each noticeable tick the steps of a mouse echo. Down thirteen more steps and down the hall where darkness and light merge. On the floor lays a man. Engaged in life, as he lays still. Not sorrowful, not depressed, not doubtful, nor is he despondent. Money, nor woman, nor occupation, nor situation can unrest his sustained mindset. He is at peace. 

I'm smiling for what I have, and not what I want.