I pull the heavy mug of green tea
to my flaking lips
the thick steam settles in my nose
and warms my winter-whipped face
but fog my half moon glasses
I wipe away the condensation
and fold myself onto the chair
clutching to my chest
my cracked-spine book
with soft pages and greying ink
I embrace it like a lover -
far enough away to drink in the meaning
but close enough so I soak up
every last word
light shines through my window
I allow my eyes to drift closed and feel the spring sun
softly kiss hello on my cheeks
after a weeks of cloud cover
I sink deeper into a faded red armchair
dozing off to gentle sleep
a ghost of a smile hanging off my lips
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
I pull the heavy mug of green tea
to my flaking lips
the thick steam settles in my nose
and warms my winter-whipped face
but fog my half moon glasses
I wipe away the condensation
and fold myself onto the chair
clutching to my chest
my cracked-spine book
with soft pages and greying ink
I embrace it like a lover -
far enough away to drink in the meaning
but close enough so I soak up
every last word
light shines through my window
I allow my eyes to drift closed and feel the spring sun
softly kiss hello on my cheeks
after a weeks of cloud cover
I sink deeper into a faded red armchair
dozing off to gentle sleep
a ghost of a smile hanging off my lips