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There is always time for beauty,
for kisses and
for getting lost forever
in the circuitous side streets
of sequins and sepia.
I have devoted myself, see,
to these mason jars of sunshine
and stained glass windows
that remind me a little
of the way gentleness
colors the silence
when you smile.
I drink my Valencia chocolate
thick and decadent,
like an untamed offering
of nature to my senses,
and feel as favored as
that moonless April evening
when you once casually
brushed a stray strand of hair
from my face.
I read passion
within the details
of the crochet trimmings
on the edges of things,
get entranced
by the saga of silhouettes
cast by mosaic lamps,
and say to myself, “Life
is definitely Wedgwood blue,
or close to it.”
Here, I love you,
and with a ballerina’s grace
I move among gilded birdcages
and wistful cherubs
in smooth plaster,
sprays of wildflowers
to brighten corners
and the nourishing poetry
of traditional home cooking,
collages of ephemera
on the translucent material
that the past is made of,
and butterflies
with intricate wings encased
between the blond wood
of the coffee table
and the tempered glass
upon which I have lain
these pages
to pen these lines
and tell you
everything I see is fashioned
after some previous dream.
We love
in order to teach
the dark luxurious universe
to make room
for all the beauty we can make.

“Breakfast in a Meadow”
by Simply Bloom Photography


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