my imagined life

she tells me she wants to be a baker
I taste her cakes – she does not lie
her dream is to open a shop
delighting sweet-seekers of the city

I imagine waking up to the smell of baking
reading over pages in the sun room
she walks in with a tray of fresh goods
a kiss on the cheek
how’s the book coming, sweetie?
here, try these

she tells me she is an artist
asks me if I could write books
which she could illustrate
well gosh, why not?

I imagine rising late in the day in our studio
we paint our naked bodies by hand
and roll over blank canvases
she takes a brush and finishes the piece
as I watch her and scribble down poetry
and we fall asleep making love

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s