on days like this i crawl back into my skin
and make love, drink coffee and write
in the midst of trying to make a living
i forgot to do exactly that - living
but the universe ordered a random day off
and i woke withe the first rays of the sun
birds singing their morning blues
nowhere to rush, nothing to do
but stretching my limbs
crack! pop!
but first... no, not coffee but making love
then i can put things on my agenda
i want to be busy savoring the day
french roast on the patio
cool breeze running through my messy hair
i have time to cook eggs
maybe after 10am i will put some clothes on
stroll around this village i don't even know the name of
send those postcards to my family
then crawl back to bed before noon, next to you
isn't it funny? that the laziest days feel more alive
than the busiest moments ever did
those contain everything i can squish in them
except me
but on days like this i slowly crawl
back into my skin and
fill my life with my presence

If this poem found a home in your heart, I would be grateful for a ❤️, a few words in the comments, or a small tip here or on Ko-fi. Every kindness helps me continue weaving stories and verses from the quiet corners of the woods.
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— Imola
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