tmbt: flowers front, back and center
Step under the frenzy of jasmine into an innocent gaze out of cafe husky innocence. Step up to art in the made and making, then turn left. Four rooms await you, and four eyes will lose you, softly. Were you a butterfly, you may stir the love with your wings, but none of your kind would land more gently than the caresses here. And were you a ferocious tabby, you could not purr more than I in the last of these rooms, closed never tightly but filled to the brim with palpable adoration. Were you me, you’d dream of dying here, in these arms. And I do. Dream. The dying, not so much, but the holding forever, certainly. And were you whoever you are, about face and towards the windows, you would find an explosion of bougainvillea above an elderly fruited grapevine above tiled terrace and ground quick to give blessings to we all, would we the willing, would we the giving of our own, would we the deep lovers of flowers.
And I am. And those found here in this new home, within and without, are the most beautiful thing.
Photo: Bougainvillea Bokeh by Micklyn (prints available for purchase).