Saturday, January 25, 2014

Love apple.

I've been meaning to write a story. It's about two lovers who fall under a spell. At night, she goes to bed alone. Then, in the morning, she wakes to find him there - fast asleep in a shaft of sunlight. He looks so beautiful, she wishes she could wake him. She kisses his shoulder, he smiles a small smile, but doesn't open his eyes.

Later, he wakes alone, the bed still warm beside him, a hollow in the pillow. He can smell her skin, but she's gone. He arrives home late at night and there she is - fast asleep - her arms flung above her head...

Our lives are very much like that right now. We are both caught up in the world of commercials. It's soul destroying work. There are no layers of beauty, not much respect, but damn... the money's good.


In the garden, life burgeons. It swells, it explodes.
All it wants is water.

2 comments:

tanja wllmot said...

and I happen to know for a fact you so like the scent of tomato leaves...never you mind the atmosphere on them tvcs lovely appletart, never you mind. pah! hope you write your story, it has lovely beginnings.

the sourcerer said...

ahhh Miss T
just this morning I brushed against the tomato plants and had a good sniff.
miss ya!
xx