English Sun

NOTE: This has been sitting waiting to be posted for a couple of months now, but I didn't want Yummy to read it or the world since it was very personal. The relationship has ended as of this insert, but I have decided to publish it. He won't be reading it that I know of and it doesn't matter if he does. It was a true thing and I want to live in the beauty of truth.


Sitting on a gold sofa, I listen to my lover's voice as he is working out his poem. There are other sounds like the dryer upstairs spinning and desiccating damp clothes to hang and fold. A jack hammer vibrating on the road digging pits to reveal old pipes that need replacing. Seagulls squawk overhead like mini pterodactyls looking for a feed.

The sound I hear above all is the sound of my own mind finding solace in this land I am visiting. The quiet my mind has been chasing a lifetime has arrived. A large warm cloak of comfort swirls around me like a matador’s cape teasing my demons away. Tears drop as I realize the implication. I may have found home.

For now, I keep the truth to myself like the English sun shining through the window next to me. I say English sun because it is cloudy and gray, typical of English weather or so I’m told.

My mind focuses back on my lover’s voice, the source of my solace.

English Sun