amateursketch archives; March 28, 2009
Longs for a neighborhood cafe to stroll to.
Hand-in-hand.
Red wine, lots of it.
Isn’t that how it always goes?
Sitting in a corner table, putting my feet up like I always do. I hope it doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable.
Warm food, hot topics.
Unembarrassed silence.
Let’s sit for hours and plan, even if those plans never see the sun.
I would like to close the place down and wander the streets.
There are other things I would like to say but another time, perhaps…
