Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Last friday night

Friday night was for sitting on the sofa with daughters. I wrote, they sat; cushions on laps, grey and soft. The cat stretched on the cushions, licking his fur. The kids were engrossed in the TV screen. Curls fell onto peachy skin. Inside the black stove, brown logs burnt red. I went to the kitchen, found macaroni cheese. Spilt the contents and heated up food. That was the order of things that evening: Gentle. Warm Fire. End of Week. Stroking Fur.

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