and all of its people,
make me think and
dream and do.
I've had a really perfect two days,
my end of shift last night
melted into total loveliness.
Then Saturday arrived ~
with all her promises
of coffee in the quaintest of places,
and paintings on the wall that
you remarked on.
I didn't even see them.
I could only,
see you.
Years flew by in the moments
of your eyes.
The world didn't feel heavy today,
in fact,
the opposite.
It felt as light
as a kite flying in the sky.
When the words soak into and straight
out of my pores again
I always wonder
will they know what I mean
when I write this?
Does it ever really matter?
To the New Yorker or
the Amish
or my dearest Kess
or my beloved Lorraine in Wales
who always loved my words?
This world.
And all its people.
They make me dream,
and think,
and do.
