Farm House 

how I imagine it to be:
 
white-washed walls
stone, hewn, four feet thick
wooden inside
cool stone floor slabs
open fire
wine, books
old, comfortable, alive
 
lay you back
      head on my lap
sips wine through poetry
      fingers running through my hair
gentle breeze
      a birds silence
an idyllic idle
kiss on your cheek
 
if i'd been there
 
      office said
      a cross
      between us
 
but i miss you
and count the days

gareth j m saunders
http://www.garethjmsaunders.co.uk
(c) 2002