there were colorful rag rugs stitched
together with wool, spun sturdily to paint
the largest impression upon the floor.

there laid flattened pillows, stuffed of hope from
our compressing bodies; which fought
to protect us from the holding hardwood.

there grew basil on the windowsill. where
we were free to pluck and pair it with our cheese,
then sip our wine as we walked along the river.

where we were, there; that was something.