I slept as best as I could,
surrounded by solemn, strange illusions,
that clung a little to me as I opened my eyes.
It was Sunday,
and all I wanted was the world,
but, first, breakfast.
Ice cream at four AM,
a cigarette in the quiet, crunching garden,
full of frost and forgotten flowerbeds.
There were hills and valleys waiting for my feet to find them,
but I watched the wind advance closer,
silver smoke that settled,
white army, with guns and gnashed teeth,
stomping up my path and all over my dying roses.
I buttoned up my winter coat,
and went back to bed.
The world would wait.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 