London is prettier if I take the back roads.
That's all I have to say today.
Not really.
I am sure there must be something else?
I rub my eyes but I think there might be peanut butter on them
as they start to sting.
Making myself fake coffee I think of him. Why is he not here?
It is hardly fair.
(Yet so fair of face)
The triangular park we looked over, swung it's daffodils down below. The bench hooked up to love's limelight,
Maple running up and down the hill, over and over. Must have been a few hundred times.
She would drop the ball from the top of the slope, watch it roll half way down, then sprint to catch up with it.
Repeat till panting and legs get tired.
We had to lift her into her bed that night. The girl just doesn't know when to stop.
Back to the bench though. We took a book each and read.
Peace. How perfectly lovely.
I could not ask for more,
but better it gets
as I lay down with head on his lap
with talk of a shared future.
I might dissolve
just thinking back to it.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Infinitely. Please?
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