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Sometimes, on the days that I am tired,
I think of Glen and Mary's house.
I remember the morning light
that filters through the shutters
and the polished tile floors;
the arrangement of china
for breakfast on the veranda
and the fragrance of lavender
that drifts out of the closet.
It is the most tranquil house
that I have ever stayed in
and the effect lingers
after you have driven down
through the olive trees
and out into the world.
I think of Glen and Mary's house.
I remember the morning light
that filters through the shutters
and the polished tile floors;
the arrangement of china
for breakfast on the veranda
and the fragrance of lavender
that drifts out of the closet.
It is the most tranquil house
that I have ever stayed in
and the effect lingers
after you have driven down
through the olive trees
and out into the world.
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5 comments:
When I read posts like these of yours I think all over again that I hope you are still writing (other than your blog).
Beautiful.
What have I told you about mentioning Glen and Mary's house?
I ask you.
I liked tracing that story. Tranquility is a much needed commodity and a little of it rubbed off.
Who doesn't bring Glen and Mary's marvellous home and your words along with it in their heart.
I can only dream of a house like that - and I do frequently.x
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