Autumn lives in the night. In the freshness of air, in yellow leaves on a pathway it breathes; in the stars which feels brighter, the mystery of quiet time upon it brings. In my glamour red leather gloves, which awaits for a chance to be worn...
Autumn sleeps in French music mornings in the cafe Fellini which sells beautiful arts; autumn yawns in the afternoon jazz when I sit on a window eating plums, watching the brawl of magpies... Autumn story tells cobwebs and invites spiders indoors- to keep your focus alive!
Autumn smiles in the eyes of people I have never met before and passes me a glass of Murphy's this time, to get Cork culture warm... Autumn smells fresh baked pastry and pours me a coffee into the sky blue cup; autumn whispers me 'patience, ground your feet girl, tune your strings- shaped note singing to come...'
'I have everything except the key to a story'- Emma Donoghue, ha!