The waves crash on the shore below us. It’s beautiful here. I could sleep here forever...
I come up from below and sit for a while in the spitting drizzle that’s bubbling through the crack in the living room ceiling.
what did Puck say? what was it...? ...no more yielding... yielding... to dream.
Orbs of air, like weightless quicksilver, slide from my nose as I roll to my back.
And now I see where you had been standing, that air blessed with the fragrance of your sweat...
I wait here, listening to the words here and there that flutter out through the screened windows...
Leaves 