Wednesday, July 24

The old notes

You imagine you might die from it.
Living perilously, you cut lemons carelessly and cross roads, head in handbag,
searching for mittens.
Then, dancing at the edge of the sea
you think of all the things you might have that you didn't before,
kisses, smiles and such.
You decide to live,
buy new wellies,
feed the birds.

1 comment:

matthew said...

your words are always dear.

p.s. i'm hiding here.