I remember days;
colored by certain
delightful chemicals,
Curled up
in a light filled bay window
curtained with lace,
hanging plants and crystals.
Lying on cushions piled high...
with steaming peppermint tea,
watching through wisps of incense
large, slow snowflakes fall.
Examining an old book,
its texture, gravity, flexibility
and smell
seemed as much a living thing
to me
as the black cat slithering up
onto my lap,
or her human
nibbling gently on my neck.