31 January 2017

just beyond our window.

snow, impossibly soft -- like falling stars, like swan feathers, like a sugar shaker. i've set aside my list for the afternoon. it can wait, all of it can wait. what cannot wait is a walk down columbus avenue to the bookshop for the title i've put on reserve -- hot chocolate in a paper cup -- a walk in central park.

for how many of these days are we afforded in life?

No comments:

Post a Comment