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this my life

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if this wasn’t my life, I would travel. perhaps by train, to the Mediterranean, or maybe by plane, to the Caribbean. only bringing a change of clothes, my passport and my straw hat, buy the rest when I get there. a small hotel, a few rooms, with white curtains billowing in the wind, overlooking the beach, the sea, the sky. coffee in a small cup while the sky first becomes rosy pink, then blue and finally black and full of the stars of the universe. the sea breeze rustling the leaves, growing still. the night air is filled with the heavy perfumes of flowers and I would just sit there, watching the night sky and then go lie in the big bed with the white sheets. this would be my life, if this life wasn’t mine.


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