Sitting on linen you know is more expensive than you’ll ever buy, softest of soft and cooling to touch.
Belly full of the nicest food, with red wine of quality that won’t be giving you a head of spanners.
Little boat lamp on, and fresh flowers cut, listening to the summer rain through a gap in the sash window of the town house in street lamp light.
Wisteria leaves, wet dripping in, fragrant with the added petrichor, a posh name for the smell of rain on the now shining pavements.
The musical notes fill my soul as I fall to sleep, knowing their love fills the rest.
Here I am happy, wanted, and there are no lies
Tomorrow
Waking to blue skies, white shutters and a yellow coffee cup.