I pour the coffee.
Steamed milk, a cube of sugar.
The perfect latté.
The calm and quiet.
 |
| The pen stealer. |
My house when I am alone.
At peace with myself.
Pen marks on my hands.
Pages indented with words.
A thought-filled journal.
I can’t find a pen,
I search the entire house.
The kitty stole them.
XOLily
