I wake up, shrug on a cardigan and drink coffee.
Next, I tend to starving peasant boys wandering
around my living room. Their blackened feet
remind me that I need to mop.
Fumes from nearby work trucks travel
through open windows. Oddly, it reminds me of Paris.
It's autumn. A wasted summer of muddled thought.
Grainy photographs and words hover,
waiting for their chance.
My hands make crumb cake instead.
2 comments:
Nice coffe cup, it looks just like you.
hate it when I miss spell words and don't catch it before I post
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