A Perfect Day


One day. I will wake to see a sunrise.


To witness the pastel-coloured sky: orange, red and pink

The result of a delicate tip trailing slowly

along the canvas. Careful. Precise. Perfect.

Van Gogh and Dali will be there


A perfect day to walk in the park. An off day.

feel its the soft heat on my skin

My face will be flushed and darkened

the smooth, white china will have life


The crumbs of toast decorate my lips

a streak of jam across the soft flesh of my fingers

Sticky, sweet and delicious - 

and a cup of tea to quench my parched insides


By dusk - I will return. There will be dinner

cutlery laid out, the patterned plates on the table

Steaming plates of greens and meats 

old spice lingering in the house


My cherished love will sit with me

we will watch the sky be dabbed with smooth fusions

But this it will be an oil painting - Goya's piece

my perfect day is done. I await for the next.


But. It must start with a sunrise.



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