It isn't a plan, just a fancy; to lie in a meadow and kiss. For an hour or so, or maybe more.
I'm not cooking today. I don't cook for myself. I bought steak and marinated artichokes, tomatoes and olives. There is some lettuce somewhere in the fridge, and the last few drops from a special bottle of balsamic.
I'm in a little bubble all of my own. Sometimes it bounces, other times it falls.
5 comments:
It sounds like it should be a plan though.
Odd how a bubble can become heavier when there's only one in it and lighter when there are two...
This echoed my thoughts as I walked through the meadow; the grass is at its softest - only a few nettles...
in the meadow waiting the grass is soft the lips a litle rougher dont be long
jurid
Poetry
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