Golden Years

1. Untitled, 2. Just Peachy, 3. flowersinmarais, 4. Cappucino

In walked luck, and you looked in time
Never look back, walk tall, act fine.
-David Bowie

I’m spending my days weaving still and writing again, covering pages in ink; they flutter around me like those falling leaves. I’m reworking the old tales, today it’s Beauty and the Beast... It’s domestic, words scribbled in haste and love. It’s golden and content. It’s one of the few tales about real love; it’s acceptance and compromise, it’s hard work sometimes but anything worth your heart should be... A few thousand long stemmed roses later and they’re still waking the neighbours, he’s still writing her notes in the morning, and she hates their bed without him; all heat and quiet strength. She’s put the pain down, made her peace, he’s atoned for his sins, each kiss bringing him closer to absolution...

Today is golden and tastes like peaches. Summer has taken another breath, champagne and fiery leaves. My hours are filled with tea, but I’m making changes and my signs won’t settle... Today I love candlelight and starlight, I love whispered promises, kept. I love flowers for no good reason, I love blank pages, fresh notebooks and blue ink. I love long rolling conversations about everything and nothing at all and as always I hate half truths...
Today the woman I want to be laughs more and her hair tumbles like those wild roses. She knows the way home, she loves without doubt and has many more tales to tell...