That cold rain outside is pouring down. But it's alright, some days go awry. 

Do you miss how the candle flickers- above whispered letters that soft bodies make before dawn? ; the electric room of making love. Smiling upon waking.






.

a dream.

I just want a small house, hidden by trees, that slopes down to the water's edge of a creek off the Bay. 

A dark wood cabin inside; where daylight peeks warm yellow light through cream curtains with the morning's tea…and at night seems like magic, dimly lit and inviting.
When it rains, there's a so-soft quilted couch in the main room to get lost in. 

A place where I can paint. Coming home from a day's work of designing. Photographs everywhere. A sailor's home. 

Then in the evenings, when friends stop by from their travels; I'll light the lanterns in the backyard. And we'll sit in rain-dried chairs and talk quietly with the sound of the waves - about literature and lost loves, who we used to be, and how much happier life is now. --- Like the 'ole tavern they stop by for one night before movin' on home. 

That's what I'm working towards. 

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