Waking up with
stripes of sun
crawling through
wooden shutters
and the smell
of heated pine trees
pinching 3 cats
sleeping underneath
dust flying in the air
sparkling in all of its glory
slowly descending
and gently sit upon
a couch that has lived
through the war
and a blanket that was
knitted when staying alive
was a matter of lack.
drumming sounds of cutlery and pots
clinging with each other
flip flops shuffling on
nicked marble floors
and widowed neighbours
for 45 years over the fence
discussing
about The moon
and its impact
on fishing
or how the river dried out
and tomatoes will come
later this year.
two shovels in harmony
splitting the ground in two
liberating ants and worms
that will be introduced
to my backyard
for their first time
the old man stays loyal
to his simple daily pleasures:
his fresh baked coffee
his destroyed denim pants
his cigarettes in the back pocket
his favourite sound of a hose
watering the concrete
while his lady
always stays in the kitchen
or on a single chair
in the middle of the balcony
overlooking her beloved kingdom
possibly wondering
why her hands
became so wrinkled
and make that wedding ring
look less of what it was
she is staying loyal
to her small pieces of fruit
the plastic bags from
the bakery next door
filled with vegetables
that smell like earth
and while slowly walking
with her right arm
always holding
her waist
with respect
she always asks
where her old man is