“home”
my curves call him over-
every crease and cut is his to paint.
my eyes see thirty years into the future;
french doors swing open to reveal a
danish garden in the
spanish countryside.
i kiss my three children with my heart,
i kiss him with my mind.
tuscan tiles tell tales while i
chop cherry tomatoes.
our cottage is cozy and cluttered with scents of
cammomile, cedar, cinnamon.
i couldn’t have dreamed of contentment like this.
i can die happy with them by my side.
ar
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC
“home”
my curves call him over-
every crease and cut is his to paint.
my eyes see thirty years into the future;
french doors swing open to reveal a
danish garden in the
spanish countryside.
i kiss my three children with my heart,
i kiss him with my mind.
tuscan tiles tell tales while i
chop cherry tomatoes.
our cottage is cozy and cluttered with scents of
cammomile, cedar, cinnamon.
i couldn’t have dreamed of contentment like this.
i can die happy with them by my side.
ar
