the gabion

my heart leapt, when he said. his home, he can see the beauty there.

with reality and fiddling. films it. forgets the language, passes the garage and looks to me to talk

of the succulents.

yet what can get better than this, no jealousies, no expectations, no anger, when none is needed.

when all around us is raging, rain against blind window, mid winter. music plays, soft covers sooth, plain thoughts.

why do some wish for perfection, in all things. that in mind. there is no formula,no rules, only their own desires which can lead to disappointment .