The decadence of comfort

I could happily pass my life filling blank pages with scribings of all the little tender moments in a day.

Pass time pondering how an apple finds new texture when topped with cinnamon sugar,

how the smell of a lovingly cooked broth fills every corner of a home,

and how quickly rain drops find one another when racing down my glass windows.

Mon chaton purrs to the scratching of my pen,

and dips his paws into my glass cup.

He pushes his nose into my palm,

demanding I hold his attention with affection.

The world melts from my perception,

and all I see,

all I feel

is the tickle of whiskers de mon chaton

If I was made for something, it would be this;

getting lost drifting between moments of comfort,

savouring the decadence of life’s pleasures.