Little violets

Sundays seem to be  days

for coming here.

The weeks dance past like

pretty ballerinas

with no thought to how fast they spin,

yet casting little violets around my feet.

I've been reading reams and reams,

poetry,

fiction,

any written word I can get my hands on.

Yesterday I went to Waterstones

and sat for four hours,

yes FOUR hours

that honestly seemed like four seconds.

During that time I wrote pages and

pages in my Moleskine about our

upcoming trip,

top ten things to do,

top ten places to eat,

you get the drift,  oui ?

Embroidered in to this there was coffee,

cup after

cup,

sushi by the plate

tennis and cherries

and rumpled sheets and dreams of you.

Joy became a habit.

I adored the  noons and the nights,

licking the inside of my mouth,

and wishing,

wishing~

I
could
taste
forever




Reading
The Guardian Angels Journal

Drinking
Cold coffee

Weather
Fantastic


Tired of
Andy Murray hype

Loving
Summer sounds sights and smells

Loving at this exact moment
The sound of my city settling into night