Well, here we are. The rain’s falled in love with my window and left sickles of watery kisses all over it and its romantic sister, cold, has started to make inroads on me. I can feel her flirting as I sit here, running long frosty fingers across my flanks, paying careful attention to my knuckles, my ears. This morning my lover was the sun, all sweetness and light, feeding me flowers and letting me immerse myself, as I sprawled full length in the old red rocking chair in the front room. I pushed my dressing gown aside and showed my knees and hairy shanks to her, opened the blinds and invited her in, felt like I was kissed all over. Now ever the birds can’t fly high enough for romantic entanglements with her, and they flutter haevily to rooftops to absorb warmth from the tiles, a semblance of the affection she lavished on all of us.
I’m feeling really, really lazy.
Also, and this is turning this from an exercise in creative writing into an admission of general abstraction failure, I can’t bring myself to do anything when Maria’s not about. Not that I want to do anything when she’s here, but it’s worse when she’s gone. I just sit, stare at this screen and occasionally remember to eat. Mmm, this morning it was kid’s mini-waffles, cheese crispy pancakes and sweetcorn on the cob. All sugar and starch and fat, mm-hmm! Just broke to eat some canned broad beans, that were delish.