For weeks I’ve been sleepless in anticipation, but not anymore. Today we returned to Wales, our world lives will no longer be eroding into a wasteland. Instead we were to return to Wales in the morning.
He picked me up from the airport; taking me to Paris, spending the weekend, then on Sunday, we went home to Swansea, never turn away from my gaze, hearts fall deeper; a kinship rekindling. I could feel my body warm,
responding and reconnecting to his.He makes me feel more beautiful than anything, that’s what he tells me. Tightly, tightly we are unwinding, both eager to begin our future, just coming back to life as if both of us were only tentatively away.
My fingers land upon his cheek like tonight like shy moths on a windowpane where he houses me with the most beautiful flame. I love being in your house. I am grateful, knowing I don’t have to say thank you, but I just want to.
My skin is anxious to feel the touch of green wet grass in the morning as I await to watch our hearts turn to spring when we both awaken.
It is 1:00 am and neither of us can keep ours eyes, barely able to
keep track of the time, and time slips so easily on it’s own.so I must bid you Goodnigt.I watch your soulful eyes closing, drifting off to the brim, I am standing over you. Tomorrow is a big day. House hunting in Wales together for the first time.
Perhaps a little Welsh cottage, close to town, with a sheep or two and a lots of green, green grass.
