The morning light seeps in through now, with the time change,
and I get confused when I wake up.
I count them, twelve steps to the bathroom, fourteen more to the tea kettle.
I lose track on the way to the balcony. Good morning sun.
Seen so many places, vast empty spaces, that I adapt to the crickets in the morning.
My own feet on the ground, shifting weight, and I wonder if the air will ever smell like winter here.
Those first chills always came early, summer days moving by fast, and people’d say, “fall’s comin’ on quick this year.”
At night, I play this game; I walk past your house on the way home from work. You’ve been gone but I think of you.
What’s the game? I hum your melodies backwards.
I thought you’d like it.
Because no one brings the guitar now, and no one the bottle of wine to share.
But the kettle rings, the tea steeps, thirteen steps to the dresser drawer, and from there, always far many more than a day should have.
I know this game all too well – too much time spent in the revelry of afternoon fog.
Such a pretty lady in the photo! =) Hey there, we have never met, but I have heard a lot of lovely things about you. One day soon I hope we will meet. Adam and I were thinking of coming in for Papa Jodie’s pickle making, so maybe then?
Anyhow, your blog is wonderful! I came by way of Garance Dore’s site.
She actually came into our office here at Band of Outsiders one day, but I didn’t directly meet her and the connection was never made.
Hope you are well, and say hello to Ellen!
xo
Ayeisha
A friend encoraged me to read this post, great post, fascinating read… keep up the nice work!