vintage house hangout

In a quiet house upon the plains, where wind rolls wide like silver rains. Its roof is low, its walls are bare, yet peace is folded in the air. The grasses bend, the horizon sighs, endless blue opens in the skies. No voices stir, no footsteps fall, just meadows larks and nothing at all. The silence hums, both deep and kind, a resting place for heart and mind. The house stands still the world feels wide, a gentle calm on on every side.