CIGARETTE BURNS

She travels and would love to travel alone just to gain experiences that money won’t buy her. She is a bit of narcissist because she finds her interesting and a mystery to herself. No matter what she does, she is bombarded with love in one form or the other. May it be a stroke of sunshine on the bottle-green wine bottles in the living room or a breeze that makes her imagination run wild.

Freedom in my soul and there is no one who can cage that. I do understand how the hearth of the universe makes stars or why time cannot run backwards but I certainly do not know why the stars are so bright when there is no one around they can help to guide, nothing so frozen that would embrace their warmth. We read about love, think about love, pretend that we really understand it. Heart skips a beat and we claim we know love..

Down the lane, there is a house; small; but big enough for two people in their late sixties. Decayed in love of their children, they hold hands to see each other. The streetlight colors their porch; ochre in sepia. Perhaps the perfect colour that fades like the roses they found in each other’s diaries.