Where the wild roses are

This is not a weather report.

But this week slipped into our pockets

with all the ease of an Indian summer.

Soon though,

( my girlfriend told me last night)

we will need knitted things to wear.

It was a lovely week.

I covered pages in ink,

words fell around me like those fluttering leaves.

Today again

is champagne and golden hues,

already I've filled it with tea and words.

My hair falls around my shoulders

like wild,

tumbling roses.

I love without question and I have

many more stories,

to tell.

Camera, Canon Eos 40d