Warm finger tips of the coffee cups,
The taste we reach for in our craving.
The antique storefronts,
the premature havens and ships.
The humanity we can bond within; it seems..
The green forests where we always heave our breaths and we look at the leaves in their forever braving.
And back to our wooden houses at night;
we’re sitting on the mahogany floors listening to Bon Iver.
The restness whom has a perfect fitting
in our thoughts….