And when she comes

here's a plan-

A wall of exposed bricks in the living room. And in the bedroom. Possibly in the kitchen. So it's always warm. 

Black and white pictures in black frames.

One colored one, somewhere. Maybe of us lying on grass with the Swan River at the edges of our feet. 

Music. Everywhere. The sort we can hear and the sort we can't. 

Fruits on the counter.

And promise we'll never put away the juicer. Or the coffee machine. 

Or our promises.

The ones we're saving up in a jar to keep. 

maybe, hold me. Hold us both?

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