NaPoWriMo: Day seventeen

Fresh melon with basil leaves and mozzarella

White wine, IPAs, fresh orange and other fruit juices

Lemons floating in ice water

Pasta

Bird song

The family sitting in the sun

Talking about nothing

Laughing at almost anything

Falling back into the old ways

Reclining like life here was a chair

The one your dad and his dad and his dad sat in

There is history in every wrinkle and fault line

Here the stories are curled up thick around our feet and snoring loudly

This is summer lunch at home

Tonight there will be whisky

with no ‘e’ (yes this is important)

And talking about bats and stargazing

While sat round a fire

Pine smoke billowing into the sky

The only music being the crack of glowing logs

And the hum of our words.

I would not have it

Any other way.

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