No Room For Little Blue I am a wheat grain floating in a shallow puddle. I live in a four-bed house with three rooms. There is one room to which you will not speak of, a curse where memories lie in a chestnut and silence roams on a branchless tree.No Room For Little Blue
He too thinks of me as a puddle, an unfortunate misstep on his path. I do not wish him to think of me this way but I am to weak to offer him anything else, perhaps I was too cold when he sat on the garden porch and wept, cursing the lands. Perhaps. &
Gingerbread and Blueberry Pie A light touch, gentleness with a smile, the one that is on the tip, the edge of words and the swirl of black coffee, frothy and smoked. A nod and a glimpse of teeth, this time from me, and your apron tucked, tea stained shirt and that skimmed back hair that you always slip behind your dumbo ears. I come here often, have you noticed? I order the same everytime, black coffee and blueberry pie. I’ve noticed that you write before I speak, it tickles me.Gingerbread and Blueberry Pie
I enjoy the view from my window seat, the calmness the way people judder along, attached to prams, business pages and bikes,
The Coffee Collection
*hugs*
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A simple statment complicated by a simple girl
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