#2 healing poetry; the colour of you

When the dawn curls in,
and the mist rises from the sea,
when the leaves begin to sing,
and birds dance in their trees – 

I wake to the cold, and the colour
of you.

There’s a sweetness in the air,
made of too many natural things,
like honeycomb and jasmine,
and the gooseberries growing by the swings.

The kettle is on, I think,
I can’t wait to see the lambs.
The dog is pining for attention,
and I sneak chocolate on my bread
instead of jam.

There’s laughter in this blanketed air,
that asks me to step into this world for a while.

For a while –

I wake to the cold and the colour
of you. 

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