Dream on

It’s the end of summer, but the electric fan is still whirring.

The holiday in Provence has already ebbed away, but I still remember the light, the ochres, and the lovely rose’ wines.

I have cleaned the office in my farmhouse, but the papers and books are already building up around me.

Computers hum.  The neighbours have gone away.  My child is asleep by 8.30, clung to Pickles the bear with impossibly long arms and legs.

There is work to be done.  But my mind is elsewhere.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s