Tuesday, November 9, 2010

With watchful eyes, sitting

Grey skies drooping.
Water dripping from above.
[At least it's not snow.]
Cosy in my dark corner of the world.
Hiding. Still. Waiting.
Old time nostaglia seeps in.
Like music from a record.
Into my brain.
The idea of Paris.
Hiding in a cafe window.
Scribbling. Sipping. Dreaming. Wondering.
Silence waits, welcoming.
That time of year. 

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