It is only me and Anna, the girl who works in this cafe this wet afternoon. She fixes me a coffee so I can hang on the window delightedly watching heavy traffic under the curtains of rain... We know each other already, but do not strike polite conversation today. She graciously washing the dishes quietly cleans around; she sings sweetest Ilya's notes to herself and to me, to those people stuck in traffic, to the rain... What a placid time, on a branch of the Fall.
I stare at gigantic white lilies in a flower shop across the street thinking pink macaroons... I press two colourful leaves between the pages of a book and gentle warm orange feeling lands on this Friday, enwrapping me into the fluffy blankets of dreams... once again... at my favourite game...
My coffee gets boredom cold while I shepherd the clouds from the South to the West and all the way around; I swim in the finest quality space... feels so good on the branch of the Fall. Anna brings me Cork News and the silence melts down into butterfly moment of laughter, look what it tells!
Might be true, might be not, I don't think about it no more, I don't wait. Love rains on me in Cork all the time anyway :)
'Hours Fly... Flowers Die... New Days... New Ways... Pass By... Love Stays.' (Henry van Dyke)
'Forever is composed of now's.' (Emily Dickinson)