1. Morning has broken like a child opening the bedroom door. You wear my Red Sox sweatshirt, the one with the ratty collar. My pillow

The back of your neck tastes like goat cheese crostini with fig-plum tapenade, shallot and pancetta tortilla crisps. Your shoulder blades amuse the bouche like

I think you are a witch you know the secrets of things that grow in the earth you spend hours each day in your garden

There are times in the morning or late in the eveningWhen skin feels as smooth as the edge of a cloudFinger tips tracing like braille