My fairylights are on,
dousing the room in soft light.
The book in my lap remains untouched,
I am too sleepy to notice it.
And I've got a scented candle lit,
vanilla floating through the air.
I missed these days,
full of thought.
I missed staring at the cieling doing nothing at all,
yet feeling so content about everything I've got going on in my life.
These sleepy afternoons,
tucked into a quiet space and alone,
these are my favorite days.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
